


Sinners Shall Entice

by Gamma_Orionis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Dark, F/M, Infidelity, Love Triangle, Romance, Wordcount: 10000-30000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamma_Orionis/pseuds/Gamma_Orionis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the Dark Lord's fall, Narcissa has been a perfect wife to Lucius Malfoy, the sort that every woman wishes she were.  But now the Dark Lord is rising again, he has freed his Death Eaters, and that means that Narcissa has to face Rodolphus Lestrange again…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twisted_Slinky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Slinky/gifts).



> Accompanying Art: [Sinners Shall Entice](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Het_Big_Little_Bang_2012/works/493525) by Twisted_Slinky

Narcissa clung to Lucius's arm. Her breast was heaving with every deep, shuddering breath she took as she watched the scene unfolding before her with teary eyes. Death Eaters, newly sprung from Azkaban, were being marched into her manor. She could not have said whether she cried from pity because every one of them looked so _broken_ , so feeble and diseased and far from the good health she had known them all to have possessed once, or whether her tears were for fear because now, she could no longer deny, even in the deepest part of her soul, what she had known _logically_ for months – that the Dark Lord was rising again.

"Cissy," Lucius whispered in her ear, "propriety."

Narcissa nodded very slightly, just enough to indicate that she had heard her husband, then straightened up, putting a small smile on her face – large enough to be visible but small enough to indicate that she was not really _happy_ to see her home being taken over by those that the Dark Lord had seen fit to spring from prison.

Not _happy_ , but willing. Willing, because her husband was a Death Eater and that meant that they both had to do exactly as the Dark Lord wished.

"Don't you have a _hello_ for your sister?" Bellatrix rasped, stepping out of line and looking at Narcissa with hollow, feverish eyes. Narcissa cringed automatically, then bit her tongue and straightened, forcing her smile wider. She reached out to touch Bellatrix's shoulders.

"I have missed you so, Bella," she said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"You wouldn't have missed me _so_ if you'd ever bothered to visit Azkaban…"

"I couldn't do that, Bella, you know – please don't blame me for–"

Before Narcissa could finish or before Bellatrix could cut her off, the Dark Lord, who had followed the parade of Death Eaters into Malfoy Manor, laid a hand firmly on Bellatrix's shoulder and she froze, her cheeks flooding with colour and her eyes going to him.

"Move along," the Dark Lord hissed at Bellatrix, letting his hand drop after only one lingering moment of contact. Bellatrix nodded quickly, falling back into line with the other Death Eaters and marching upstairs, towards the row of bedrooms that Lucius and Narcissa had been ordered to prepare for them.

"We are grateful for your hospitality," the Dark Lord said, looking now at Lucius and Narcissa. His voice, high and cold, made Narcissa wonder if perhaps he was mocking them, but she did not dare look up to see whether a smile was twisting his mouth or whether he looked cold and serious, as he so often did.

"It is our honour, my Lord," Lucius spoke up quietly, and Narcissa was grateful that she was not required to respond. She wasn't sure that she would have been able to do it without crying.

He – the Dark Lord – inclined his head, then swept up the stairs, after his Death Eaters, and only when Narcissa and Lucius were alone again did she collapse.

"I can't do this, Lucius," she sobbed, falling into his arms and burying her face in his shoulder. "I can't! Please – please don't put me through this, I can't abide having these… _people_ in our home!"

"There's nothing I can do about it, Cissy. You know that."

"But you _can_ , Lucius!" she whispered hysterically, though she knew perfectly well that the Dark Lord would be no more willing to take orders from Lucius than from her. "Please, I don't- I can't–"

"I know that this is difficult for you, Cissy…" Lucius rested his hand on her back, drawing her comfortingly closer into the embrace. "But we need to give up our home to the service of the Dark Lord – and think…" He lowered his voice to the quietest whisper he could manage, and Narcissa could hear the _fear_ straining it, as hard as he tried to conceal it. "It is better than giving up our lives… or our son."

"That's true," Narcissa whispered tearfully, nodding and clinging to her husband as if he could protect her, but what he said was little comfort.

No surprise – he didn't know why she didn't want the Death Eaters there, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Narcissa tried to come up with excuses as to why she could have nothing to do with the Death Eaters. It pleased her to no end that none of them were strong enough to come to dinner, for that at least meant that she needn't try to carry on conversations, but try as she might to avoid it, she was still required – by the Dark Lord and, moreover, by her husband – to play the hostess.

So it was that, a few days after they had been brought into her home, she was standing in front of Rodolphus Lestrange's room, holding a bowl of soup in shaking hands and not wanting to knock.

She looked down at the soup, watching the ripples in the surface from her trembling hands. She was terrified that she was about to spill it, and did not trust herself to take one hand off to knock. The last thing she wanted was to appear before Rodolphus soaked in the soup she was supposed to feed to him…

"Rodolphus?" she called softly, after an agonizingly long moment of fighting with herself over what to do.

There was silence, and for just a second, Narcissa allowed her heart to leap, thinking that Rodolphus might be asleep, so she could just leave the soup and then she wouldn't have to talk to him. But then she heard a voice – soft, rough and utterly unfamiliar.

"Cissa?"

"I brought you some soup," she told him, leaning closer to the door. "Let me in, please."

There was another pause, then the door swung open, and Narcissa almost dropped the bowl.

When she had seen Rodolphus trooping into the house with the other Death Eaters that had been released from Azkaban, he had not looked at her and she had avoided paying attention to him, so she had not had a chance to see just what a toll Azkaban had taken on him.

His face was pallid, drawn and hollow. His eyes were sunken deep into their sockets, shadowed, and they looked to her distinctly _haunted._

For a long moment, he stared at her as though he'd never seen anything like her before, then he slowly slipped his tongue out and dragged it around his thin lips.

"Cissa," he croaked.

"You ought to sit back down," Narcissa whispered. Her heart was in her throat.

"Sit down with me…"

She stepped in, and Rodolphus sank back down onto his bed. Narcissa laid the bowl of soup on his bedside table, then slowly slid into the hard, straight-backed chair beside his bed. The discomfort of her seat reminded her to sit stiffly upright.

"Long time," he said, breaking off to cough wetly into his hands. "No see…"

"Here…" She produced a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him, letting him wipe his mouth. A smear of blood was left behind.

"As I was saying," he continued, lowering the cloth and looking at her, "It's been a long time. You didn't visit."

"Of course I didn't." Narcissa dropped her voice and glanced nervously over her shoulder, just to be sure no one was watching. "I couldn't traipse into Azkaban to visit a convicted Death Eater… I'd have been locked in there with you if anyone found out!"

"And wouldn't that have been nice?" Rodolphus's mouth twisted into a sneer. His teeth were chipped and rotten and Narcissa looked away. "We could have visited – wouldn't that have been lovely?"

"Don't be this way, Rodolphus," she whispered. "You know why I didn't come to see you, and you would understand if you were–"

"If I were in my right mind?" Rodolphus asked, sitting up a bit and glaring at Narcissa. "Is that what you were going to say? You think I'm _not_ in my right mind _now_?"

"Of course you're not! You've just come out–"

"That doesn't mean that I have gone mad!" Rodolphus hissed. "I am _perfectly_ sane, as you would know if you took a moment to _talk to me!_ "

"I'm here talking to you right now, aren't I?" Narcissa said quietly. She wanted to cry, wanted to run out of his room and slam the door and fling herself into Lucius's arms. She wanted to forget all about Rodolphus and what he was saying to her…

"Look at me, then!"

She raised her eyes slowly, looking at him rather nervously and shifting in the hard seat. "Rodolphus, I _have_ missed you… I've missed you terribly, but if I'd gone to Azkaban to see you–"

"Couldn't you have said you were going to see your sister and just… dropped in on me?"

"You think they would have suspected me any less for that?" Narcissa hissed. "I told people that Bellatrix was no sister to me after she was locked up – I couldn't have very well gone in to visit her…"

"You would have found a way if you really wanted to," Rodolphus mumbled, turning away from her and staring at the wall. "I know you're clever enough for that, even though most people _do_ think you're stupid…"

"They used to," Narcissa said coolly. "Not anymore. Things have changed, Rodolphus, and you know that as well as I do, even if you weren't here to watch them change. If you would look at me–"

" _You're_ the one who's not looking at _me!_ "

"And pay _attention_ to what you saw," Narcissa continued, ignoring his interruption, "then you'd be able to see that. I'm not a stupid, fragile little girl anymore."

Rodolphus stared at her, and Narcissa thought again how terribly haunted his eyes looked. She did not care to think what he must have been seeing for all those years that he'd been in Azkaban – she knew that he had witnessed terrible things as a Death Eater and having to relive them would surely have taken a toll on anyone. For a moment, she actually felt guilty for her harshness, but then reminded herself that it was _he_ who had begun the fight.

"Bellatrix is the fragile one now," Rodolphus said after a long time.

Narcissa looked away. She had been avoiding seeing her sister for fear of what she might have become, what Azkaban might have turned her into, and if even Rodolphus, who, to use a cliché, worshipped the very ground that Bellatrix walked upon, thought that she was weak now, then clearly Narcissa was making the right decision.

"You still love her, don't you?" she said, and then winced, aware of how terribly that had sounded like an accusation. As though it was a bad thing for him to love his wife – of course it wasn't; it was a wonderful thing. She should have been _glad_ that he loved Bellatrix, because she loved Lucius and they could both be happy with the people they had married…

"She was… very much changed by Azkaban," said Rodolphus, quietly, after a long moment of tense silence following Narcissa's question. "Far more than I would have expected. I could hear her every day, screaming, and still…"

Narcissa looked at him, leaning forward a bit without even realizing it. "And still?"

"And still," he murmured, "I didn't expect her to look… as she did, when we were let out."

"And how does she look now that you have been let out?"

"Have you not seen her?" Rodolphus asked, and when Narcissa shook her head, he let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. "You're the wiser one, then. You would not recognize her if you saw her."

"Is it- is it truly that bad?" Narcissa asked quietly, though she knew perfectly well that the answer was yes and that the answer would, moreover, tear Rodolphus apart to give. She loathed how badly she knew she was hurting him, yet did not dare to say it in any other way.

"Yes," he said simply, and Narcissa sighed, sitting back.

"Oh…"

"But," he continued, gazing up at the ceiling, his eyes becoming unfocussed as he looked, "it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what she looks like, or what she's become."

"You still love her, then?"

"Yes," Rodolphus told her, again with a terrible simplicity that would have broken Narcissa's heart, had she not been so resolute in her wish never to let Rodolphus hurt her. "I do still love her."

"So then–" Narcissa's voice trembled. "What do you want with me?"

"It is possible to love two people, Cissa." Rodolphus reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand, and he looked at her with such wide and intent eyes that every part of Narcissa was overcome with the urge to fling herself into his arms, sob into his shoulder that she loved him and would gladly be with him if he would have her; Lucius and Bellatrix be damned.

But she didn't.

"No," she said, pushing his hand away and standing up. "It isn't."


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ve been acting strangely, Cissy,” Lucius murmured when Narcissa crawled into bed with him that night, laying her head on his chest but avoiding eye contact.  “I know that it’s difficult for you, having all these people in your home…”

“It’s not so bad,” Narcissa said quietly.

_Not so bad except for Rodolphus._

“Then what’s wrong?”

 _What’s wrong_ , she thought, pressing her lips together hard and squeezing her hands into fists in the blankets, _is that Rodolphus is back and he’s not supposed to be because I’m not supposed to love him or have anything to do with him anymore.  I’m married to you and I love you, but I can’t tell him that…_

“Nothing’s wrong, Lucius,” she said, a bit more sharply than she had intended.

“Don’t lie to me, Cissy.  You aren’t a good liar.”

_Funny.  Because I’m a good enough liar to have convinced you that I never slept with another man, that I was a virgin when you took me to bed on our wedding night and that I was never unfaithful to you after that.  I’m a good enough liar that you never once thought I had another man on my mind when I closed my eyes while you made love to me…_

“Nothing’s wrong, Lucius,” she repeated calmly.  “I’m just a touch tired… a touch… I’m a little bit strained at the moment, is all.”

He sighed, then put his hand beneath her chin, lifting her head so that she was eye to eye with him.  “Cissy…”

“What?” she asked, her voice choking with tears.

“Cissy… I understand that this is difficult for you – all of this.  It’s difficult for me too, but I understand how- how powerless you feel…”

 _You don’t understand anything_ , she thought, her lips pressing together, but she didn’t say so.  If Lucius wanted to think that he understood her, she wouldn’t stop him – better that he thought he understood than that he _really_ did.

“And I know that it must be doubly hard for you, seeing your sister…”

“I haven’t talked to Bellatrix yet,” Narcissa said abruptly, interrupting him. 

“Oh- haven’t you?”

“No.”  She shook her head decisively.  “I don’t think I want to see her at all for a while,” she added, a little more quietly.

“You’re not ready to see what Azkaban did to her,” Lucius said, and the way he said it, it sounded more like a statement of fact than a question about Narcissa’s feelings.  All the better – if he wanted to think that, then Narcissa wouldn’t have to explain herself.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Lucius asked, lowering his voice to a soft, compassionate whisper.  He threaded his fingers through her hair, lifting her head.  “If it’s not…”

“It is,” Narcissa said swiftly, interrupting him.  “That’s it, Lucius, that’s it exactly…”  _And there’s nothing more to it so you should stop asking_ now.

"Oh dear, Cissy…"  Lucius petted her hair gently, and Narcissa buried her face in his chest, her whole body heaving with sobs.

"Why is everything so difficult?" she whispered, and Lucius did not answer.  She hadn't expected him to, of course – there wasn't any real answer, not one that he could give and not one that anyone else could give, not ever. 

Everything was wretched.  Everything hurt.

Why couldn't she just have fallen in love with Lucius in the first place?  He had been such a good man, so perfect when they were first courting.  He was polite to her, always charming and sweet, never one to hurt her or try to make things difficult for her.  Andromeda and Bellatrix had even teased her, saying that she didn't deserve such a wonderful man as him.  They had said that it was unfair that she should have him while they were stuck with the Lestranges, but it had always been in good fun.  There had always been an unspoken agreement that they didn't mean what they said and that they were happy for their younger sister.

But Narcissa hadn't been happy for herself.

She had looked with such jealousy at Andromeda, because Rabastan was clever and intelligent and understood her.  When Andromeda disappeared onto the moors in fits of anger and hatred for the world, it had been Rabastan who could follow her out and bring her back with a smile on her face.  Rabastan – sweet, sensitive, thoughtful Rabastan…

But then Andromeda had run away and she had given him up, and if only Narcissa had been a little bit younger, married a little bit later, she might have had a chance to be Rabastan's bride.

But for every jealous thought that Narcissa had about Rabastan, there were a dozen about Rodolphus.  Rodolphus – he was such a perfect man, just the sort that any woman would have wanted.

Bellatrix had scorned him – not so much as to make it seem as though she didn't want him, but certainly enough to make it seem as though he wasn't her ideal match - saying that he was weak and foolish, but Narcissa had never seen that.  He was stoic - to the point of stubbornness, perhaps – and serious, and beautiful.

Oh, but he had been so beautiful when they were young.

She could still remember how he had looked on his and Bellatrix's wedding day, so solemn that Narcissa had been almost intimidated by him, but with a gleam of happiness in his eyes.

The gleam that had disappeared when he had taken her outside and the two of them had made love against the chapel wall, breathless and silent for fear of being heard.

Narcissa had often seen lust in Rodolphus's eyes when he looked upon her – that had been so from the first time she had seen him, she thought – but it had only been after a terribly long time that she fancied that she head started seeing love.

It must have been after Bellatrix joined the Death Eaters.

That had, if Narcissa was not mistaken, marked something of a turning point in everyone's life, not just Bellatrix's.  For Bellatrix, of course, it had been a wonderful thing.  She had finally become one of a group that she had idolized since first it rose to prominence - and the first woman, no less.  She was at last able to step outside the boundaries set by Pureblood society about what women could and could not do.  She was at last able to make herself known as a great witch.  Things had been terribly happy for Bellatrix.

But things had been wretched for everyone else.


	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa had been the first one that Bellatrix had told about the affair.

She could still, all these years later, remember every detail of what had happened.  Narcissa was sitting in her parlour, an embroidery hoop in her lap, gently stabbing herself with the tip of the needle instead of sewing and watching little beads of blood bubble to the surface of her skin and burst when she touched them.  It was hypnotic, watching the tiny crimson blossoms appear on her fair hands.

There was a knock on the door and Narcissa rose swiftly, brushing the blood from her fingers on her handkerchief, and when she opened the door, she was met with Bellatrix, whose eyes were glazed over and who had a positively beatific smile on her face.

"Bellatrix?  What's happened – is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Cissy..." Bellatrix breathed.  She pushed back her hair, which was loose and tumbled around her shoulders in dishevelled ringlets.  "Nothing's wrong – everything's completely right... may I come in?"

"Of course…"  Narcissa beckoned her inside, her heart beating quickly.  She was unsure whether she liked Bellatrix in this state.  It was unnerving to see her strong, eternally composed older sister flushed and near to giggling like a schoolgirl.  It had, in fact, made Narcissa rather nervous.

Bellatrix floated in, her lips curved up into the widest smile that Narcissa had seen her wear since her wedding day, when she had strode down the aisle with such confidence and been taken into Rodolphus’s arms…

 _Don’t think about that, Narcissa, don’t you_ dare _start thinking about that!_

“What is it, Bella?” Narcissa asked.

In answer, Bellatrix pulled up the arm of her dress, and Narcissa flinched.  She had known for a long time that her sister had intentions of joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, along with Lucius, along with Rodolphus and Rabastan and so many men that Narcissa could not have named if she had tried, but she had never fully expected Bellatrix’s dream to come true.  She had, in fact, been praying that it would not, for as soon as Bellatrix was a Death Eater, that meant that Narcissa was the only useless sister left…

“You… you were marked,” she said flatly, staring at it.

“I was,” Bellatrix breathed, and she actually twirled in place.  “Oh, Cissy, I can’t even _say_ what it was like…”  She pressed a hand against her forehead and sank down very slowly into the armchair in which Narcissa had been sitting before she had come to the door.

 _And I don’t care to know what it was like, thank you very kindly._  

Narcissa loathed all manner of talk about the Death Eaters.  It sickened her, for she knew – she _knew_ , very deep down, in ways that she couldn’t entirely explain and that she was quite aware were not the most clever or logical, but she knew nonetheless – that the Death Eaters would be the downfall of her sister.

She was sure of this, no matter how many times Bellatrix insisted that she was safe.

“The Dark Lord is an incredible man,” Bellatrix breathed, brushing hair back from her forehead and smiling again at Narcissa with that frighteningly beatific smile.  It did not suit her.

“Is he.”  Narcissa ground her teeth together lightly.  She wished that Lucius would come home quickly and free her of the burden of having to listen to her sister wax poetic about the many ways in which the Dark Lord surpassed all other men – he was better spoken, more handsome, more accomplished, and any number of other things that Narcissa suspected that Bellatrix would not have cared about, had they not been connected to the Dark Lord, but that, by the very virtue of being connected with him, were the only matters of which Bellatrix would speak.

“He is,” she confirmed, then she looked at Narcissa and the airy, sweet and angelic expression that she had been wearing slipped from her face.  “Narcissa… I must confess.”

That made Narcissa alert instantly.  She stepped close to her sister and could feel her heart beating a quick and dizzying pattern against her bodice.  “Bellatrix?  Confess what?  Confess what, Bella – is it a matter concerning the Dark Lord?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

_She is in danger.  I am in danger.  She has put herself in danger.  She has put me in danger._

“What?” Narcissa asked in a small, tremulous voice.

Bellatrix looked fair ready to burst with joy.  She leapt to her feet and caught Narcissa in her arms.  “Oh Cissy, you- you will be so happy for me!”

“I will?  And why?”

Bellatrix pulled back, and her eyes shone so brightly that Narcissa thought her feverish.  She laid a hand on her cheek, an action which it seemed Bellatrix mistook for affection, for she put her hand over Narcissa’s, then moved it to her lips and kissed her fingers.

“He took me to his bed,” she whispered ecstatically.

Narcissa blinked.  She had expected some declaration that Bellatrix would soon be running off to participate in some deadly mission halfway across the globe, or perhaps to be told that the Dark Lord had some use for her and that she was to come to his manor immediately to serve his every whim.

_Clearly, Bellatrix did a fair enough job of serving his every whim._

“Well,” Narcissa said, pressing her lips together disapprovingly, “I don’t see what that has to do with me–”

“I wanted to tell you!  You are my sister!”  Bellatrix looked rather insulted.  She pulled back and crossed her arms defensively across her breast, blowing a loose thread of hair out of her eyes with an impatient huff of breath.  “I would have thought that it would be of some interest to you that your sister had just bedded–”

“I do not care to hear the sordid details of your sex life, Bellatrix,” Narcissa said.  She tried to sound imperious, but her voice broke down at the end of the line.  She struggled for a moment, and then, as Bellatrix continued to glare at her, she could not help but burst into a small fit of giggles.  “Oh, _stop that!_   It’s rude to stare!”

“It’s ruder to giggle,” Bellatrix said, but a smile was inching onto her face too.  “I _can_ tell you about it, can’t I, Cissy?  You don’t really mind, do you?”

“Of course not.”  Narcissa’s laugh died away, but she kept her smile hitched onto her face and sank down into an armchair opposite Bellatrix and folded her hands in her lap quite politely, then looked at her older sister with an expectant smile.  “Tell me, then.”

Bellatrix clasped her hands at her breast and tipped her head back, staring up at the ceiling.  "It's… oh Merlin, Narcissa, it was so incredible… after the ceremony where he marked me, he took me up to his bedchamber…"

"I would have guessed that, wouldn't I?" Narcissa said dryly.  She was digging her fingernails lightly into the palm of her hand to distract herself from how she wanted to slap Bellatrix.  "You did say that you bedded him…"

"I don't think you really want to hear this at all, do you?" Bellatrix asked, frowning.  "You aren't happy for me at all, are you?  I mean, I would have thought that you would be at least a little interested in your oldest sister being taken to bed by the Dark Lord…"

"Aren't you supposed to be married?" Narcissa snapped, losing all patience.  "Doesn't that bother you in the slightest?  You have a husband who you ought to be a little ashamed of being unfaithful to…"

For the first time, Bellatrix's angelic smile faded.  She glared down at her sister.  "Oh, thank you so much, Narcissa.  You just had to drag him into this, didn't you?  God, Narcissa, you're such a brat - don't you think that I can make my own choices about what men I sleep with?"

"Obviously not," Narcissa said snappishly, "because you've chosen the Dark Lord instead of the man you married.  There are plenty of women who would have killed to be with Rodolphus, and you just cast him aside…"

"He's dull," Bellatrix said, waving one hand through the air as if waving Rodolphus and his dullness away.  "He isn't anything like the Dark Lord.  Oh Cissy, the things he did to me…"

"Lovely, kinky things I'm sure."  Narcissa stood up and crossed the room, wrenching the doors of a cabinet open and pulling out a bottle of wine.  Her hands were shaking and she needed the drink to steady her nerves.  "I'm sure he was absolutely wonderful with you and knew every single thing you wanted…"

"Yes, he did."  Bellatrix stood up, and though Narcissa kept her back turned to her, she knew that she was advancing threateningly on her.  "Yes, he knew exactly every last thing that I ever could have wanted, all the things that I never would have dared tell Rodolphus about - what, does that bother you, Cissy?  Because Lucius doesn't know?"

"No," Narcissa said immediately.

"So you don't deny that Lucius doesn't know?"

"I would never have denied it," she said quietly, still with her back turned to Bellatrix.

She would never have told anyone that Lucius knew what she desired, never would have said that he was some sort of prodigy in bed and understood her to the very depths of her soul, but she would certainly have said that someone else did.

It was so unfair.  It was so unfair that Narcissa was married to Lucius when she loved another man and he loved Bellatrix… it was a farce, a mockery of real life, and it sickened her.

Rodolphus would not leave Bellatrix before - Narcissa had begged him time and again to divorce his wife and run away with her - but now she was going to bed with the Dark Lord, and he was still married to her, and Narcissa doubted that he would ever leave her, no matter now much Narcissa wanted him to, no matter how little Bellatrix deserved him, even though she was unfaithful to him, even though she very clearly preferred the Dark Lord…

"Jealous," Bellatrix breathed, her lip curling.  "You're so petty, Cissy.  You don't want me to be happy at all, just because you couldn't find a man who pleased you…"

"And what makes you think I couldn't?" Narcissa snapped.  She whirled around to stare down Bellatrix, and her whole body was heaving with suppressed rage.  Bellatrix regarded her with mild curiosity and surprise.

"Did you, Cissy?" she purred.  "Do tell… have you found a man better than your husband?"

Narcissa would have paid dearly - more than paid dearly, she would have gladly given Bellatrix everything she had - to be able to tell her, to be able to watch the look on her face when it dawned on her that her sweet, innocent little sister was having an affair with her husband.  What would she do, Narcissa idly wondered.  Would she fly into a rage, or would she laugh and tell Narcissa that she had suspected it for years because neither of them could even begin to keep a secret.

But Narcissa couldn't tell her.  She couldn't tell her because she was afraid of what she would say - what if she was furious and told Narcissa that she never wanted to see her again?  What if she told Lucius that his wife was a harlot…

What if she left Rodolphus?

Narcissa couldn't do that to Rodolphus.  She could pray that he left Bellatrix, but she knew that he never would, because he loved her - no, not even loved her.  Love was a pure and sacrificial thing like Narcissa felt for him.  What Rodolphus felt for Bellatrix was more obsession than anything else, an obsession with having the most beautiful women that any of them had ever known as his very own.  If it had only been love, he would have left Bellatrix the moment he realized that she desired another, the way that Narcissa was willing to watch Rodolphus with Bellatrix and not say a word.  It was more important to her to see her beloved happy than to see him with her.

So she said nothing.

"I am happy for you," she managed to tell Bellatrix, after a very long time of struggling with herself to be sure that the words "I am bedding your husband" didn't slip from her mouth.

"Are you?"

"Dreadfully happy," Narcissa said, and she hitched a sweet mask of a smile firmly onto her face.  "I couldn't be happier."

And Bellatrix had believed her.


	5. Chapter 5

Narcissa tossed and turned through the night, unable to get herself to sleep.  She felt ill, there was a sheen of sweat on her skin and every time she turned over, the pillow felt hot and damp beneath her cheek.  Perhaps she had contracted some illness from the prisoners now inhabiting her house, and before long, she would be lying dead in the ground, stricken down by some terrible disease…

_Stop thinking like that, Cissy.  That's madness._

"Are you all right?" Lucius murmured from beside her, and she didn't know how to answer.  Should she tell him that yes, everything was completely all right, when that was a lie that he would surely have been able to detect immediately?  Or would it be better to tell him that there was some minor problem that was bothering her, to make up some reason why she was not calmly asleep and hope that he would take that to be a suitable excuse?  Or maybe she should tell him…

She couldn't.

She couldn't do that to the man who had been so kind to her, she couldn't break his heart after all she had done, even though her own heart was being torn apart every moment that she was apart from Rodolphus.  Better hers than Lucius's - she was the one who had sinned, she was the one who had done wrong and been unfaithful when he had done nothing but be a good husband to her for every day that they had been together…

"I need to get something to drink," Narcissa said quietly, sitting up.  She slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to the door and down the hall, pausing to glance at herself in the mirror that stood at the end of the corridor.  She was pale, her skin glittering with perspiration, and with her white nightdress billowing in a slight draft and her pale hair streaming around her face, bleached as pale as the hair of a drowned person, she looked more like a wraith than a woman.  Rodolphus had always told her that her frailty was beautiful and that he loved her delicate build and colouring, but Narcissa had never believed that it was really beautiful at all, and looking at herself now, she doubted it even more.  She looked frightening and grim, even to herself - nothing like the beautiful woman that she had once been.

Nothing like the beautiful woman that she should still have been.

It was all so unfair.  It was so unfair that this was what she had become.  She looked like it was she who had been pulled from Azkaban, it looked like it was she who had been in prison for fourteen years without hope of escape, and why, when she had been treated like a queen for every one of those days, when she had been given everything that her heart could have desired and more, and when she had never once been told anything but that she was a wonderful, beautiful woman, a perfect wife to Lucius and a perfect mother to Draco?  She was what every woman aspired to be, the creature that they all thought too good to be true but secretly wished and prayed that they could one day be like.

They didn't know that she was far from a perfect wife, of course.

Narcissa slipped down the stairs, away from her bedroom.  Away from Lucius. 

When she reached Rodolphus's door, she did not knock, but pushed it in gently and let the soft creaking announce her presence. 

He was lying in bed with his back to her and the blankets pulled over his bony frame.  She could see them puckering against his ribs, and the one arm that lay on top of them was so thin that she could see the space between the bones in his forearm.

"Rodolphus?" she whispered.

Rodolphus turned over slowly, and though he had been lying quite perfectly still when she had entered the room, now she could see that his eyes were wide open and unclouded by sleep.

"Cissa."  He sat up slightly, then leaned back again.  "What's wrong?"

She stepped closer to him, her heart fluttering against her rib cage.  "Rodolphus, I–"

"You what?"

She swallowed hard.  He was doing this on purpose, being difficult on purpose.  If he would only just let her talk, everything would be all right, but no, of course he had to interrupt her and make her feel like he didn't care what she had to say…

Not that she thought that.  Of course he cared - he always had.  He had cared more than anyone else, he had treated her better than anyone else, he had…

"I love you, Rodolphus."

The words slipped out and Narcissa could do nothing to retrieve them.  She stared at him with desperate eyes, hoping, praying that he would understand and that he would respond with a declaration of love to match, but she didn't know why she dared hope.

Rodolphus snorted.  "I'm sure.  I'm sure you do.  That's why you let me rot in prison for fourteen years, never a word from you…"

"I never gave a word to my sister either!  I couldn't, Rod, you know I couldn't."

"I don't care what reasons you have," he told her, but Narcissa shook her head and pushed the door shut.  She moved towards him, feeling almost like she was floating, and extended her arms towards him.  "Rodolphus… Rodolphus…"

"Cissa?"

"I love you so much, Rodolphus," she told him in a tremulous voice.  "Please, don't- don't make me stop… don't make me feel like I shouldn't love you, I've already got Lucius and Bellatrix to do that…"

Rodolphus didn't look away from her.  He seemed transfixed and perhaps even unable to speak, and when Narcissa climbed onto the bed beside him, he neither pulled back nor pushed her away.  He seemed more than willing, though he barely moved, as her hands slowly caressed his cheeks and moved down to pull the blankets back from his chest.

"Oh, Rod…"

He was so thin that every rib stood out against his pale skin, which was caked with grime.  Narcissa smoothed her hand over his chest and felt tears rise in her eyes when she saw him flinch.

“You’re… you’re so thin,” she whispered and Rodolphus let out a small, mirthless laugh.

“Something to do with being in Azkaban, I think.  It can be hard on a body…”

Narcissa laughed, but her voice broke and she ended up sobbing.  “Oh God, Rod… I- I never meant for any of this–”

“Of course you didn’t – it’s not as if I blame you.  Don’t cry, Cissa, don’t…”

“You shouldn’t be the one comforting me!” Narcissa said, but she let him wipe her tears.  It felt so good to cry to someone other than Lucius – as much as Lucius thought he understood, it was nothing compared to the truth and he never _could_ understand the truth – not as long as Narcissa kept her secrets…

“Did you think of me while you were in Azkaban?” Narcissa asked tearfully.

“Of course I did – I couldn’t _not_ think of you.”  Rodolphus reached up and twined his arms around her, pulling her down beside him on the bed.  She could smell sickness and sweat on his skin, but she didn’t care.  If anything, she enjoyed the sour, sharp smells.  They reminded her that this was real, that she was _really_ in Rodolphus’s arms again.

“Often?”

“Every day.”

She didn’t know whether he was being honest.  How could she have known – she had become such a practiced liar that she knew how easily one could disguise even the most blatant lies as truth and Narcissa knew Rodolphus to be even more skilled than she was.  He might not have thought of her at all, but it pleased her nonetheless to think that he had.

“And did you think of me?” he asked quietly.  “While you were here, free… did you think of me?”

“Every day,” Narcissa breathed, and she meant it with all her heart and soul.  Rodolphus had been in the back of her mind forever, though she tried to convince herself that she had not thought about him. 

What was the use in lying to herself?  She could no longer tell herself that she was a faithful wife to Lucius, not while she was lying in bed with another man.

Rodolphus’s hand moved slowly to her waist, then trailed up to touch her breasts through the fabric of her nightdress.

“You’re so beautiful, Cissa,” he murmured, but his eyes were closed, and Narcissa wondered if he was conjuring an image of Bellatrix to his mind.  His hand tightened on her and she let out a small gasp.

“I love you, Rodolphus – please don’t ever believe I don’t…”

“I wouldn’t ever believe you didn’t,” he told her, then his mouth was on hers and Narcissa sighed in pleasure, melting into his arms.  Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, wetting his face as he kissed her, but neither of them cared and he mercifully did not slow. 

His hands felt cold and sharp against her skin as he pulled the neck of her nightdress down to expose one shoulder.  He stroked her gently and Narcissa trembled.

“Oh, Rodolphus… I love you,” she murmured, in a small, shaking voice.  “I do…”

“I know.”

Then her nightdress was off and Rodolphus was laying kisses all over her body, so gentle, so soft.  He shook a little, as if from nerves, as he spread her legs, and Narcissa let out a low, soft gasp.  She let him push her down onto the bed and mount her, and she moaned and sighed as he moved so slowly and carefully against her. 

She was unsure whether he was being so gentle for her benefit or for his – after all, he was the one weakened from Azkaban, and yet, she felt as if he was purposefully trying not to hurt her. 

That was very much a change from how things had been between them before.  Rodolphus had been a rough lover, had taken what he desired from her when he desired it – thankfully, there were few times when she did not desire to please him as well – but now, he was treating her more as Lucius did.  He seemed almost afraid that she might shatter if he did anything that might hurt her.

“Rodolphus?”

“Yes, Cissa?” he murmured in her ear, catching the lobe gently between his teeth and biting very lightly.  Narcissa breathed out a sigh of pleasure, but it was more for show and because she felt as though she ought to have taken pleasure in it than because being bitten so gently pleased her.

“Are you- do you feel very weak from Azkaban?”

“Not terribly,” he told her, pulling back a little.  “Why do you ask?”

“Because- Rodolphus, please don’t be so gentle with me,” she whispered.  “I don’t want that – I could have Lucius if I wanted someone to treat me like a little porcelain doll that’s going to smash if you touch it wrong…”

“But Cissa–”

“If you love me, you’ll hurt me when I ask you to,” Narcissa breathed, her breast heaving.  She looked up at him with her eyes wide and imploring.  “Please, Rod, it’s what I want.”

“You want me to hurt you?”  His lips twitched.  “That’s different from how you used to be…”

“I always liked it when you hurt me,” she said.  “I just… I didn’t say.  Please, Rod…”  She pulled back from him and her hand slid slowly down his chest, his fingers running over the ridge that each of his ribs made in his skin, and she took his cock in her hand, stroking it with light and teasing movements.  “I know that you like doing it too – or, you did…”

“I do,” he whispered.  “I still do.”

“Then do it.”  Narcissa tipped her head back, looking at him through lowered lashes and allowing a small and saucy smile to appear on her lips.  “Slap me, hit me, hurt me, do what you want to me…”

Rodolphus looked worried for a moment, then he brought his hand up and slapped Narcissa lightly on her cheek.

It wasn’t much.  Narcissa had memories of Rodolphus all but beating her until she was dizzy when he made love to her, had memories of having to hide bruises for days afterwards and had memories of how that had pleased her, though she disliked to admit it.  The little slap that he had given was so different and so much less than that, but it was still far more than Lucius had given her.  Lucius, who was such a gentleman in bed – just as much between the sheets as he was when he was talking to the Minister of Magic…

Narcissa wrapped her legs around Rodolphus’s waist and moaned encouragingly.  He gave her another swift slap, making her body jolt and a gasp slip from between her lips.

“Oh, _Rodolphus…_ ”

“You like that?” he murmured in her ear.  His voice was lower and huskier than she had heard it before then, a rough and sweet sound that reminded her wonderfully of how things had been.

“Yes, yes, I do… you know that I do.”

So he slapped at her and she moaned and writhed against him until he slid deep inside her. 

Narcissa’s back arched and a desperate gasp left her lips.  Tears of pleasure filled her eyes.  She grasped at Rodolphus, clinging to him and pulling on his hair, and he groaned with her every moment.

“It’s been… it’s been a dreadfully long time,” he murmured.

“I- I know – I’ve missed you badly, I’ve missed _this_ …”

He braced himself by grabbing onto the bedpost for leverage and pounded into her, and Narcissa’s head fell back.  She squirmed upon the bed, her legs wide apart and sweat pouring down her face.

“Rodolphus–”

“I love you, Cissa,” he panted.  “I love you, I love you…”  But his eyes were closed.

“Look at me, Rodolphus!”

His eyes snapped open at the sharpness in Narcissa’s voice and he looked at her rather questioningly.  “What?”

“Look at me while you’re making love to me.”

He seemed somewhat confused by the order, but he didn’t close his eyes again.  They did glaze over and Narcissa wondered whether he was really seeing her, though he was looking directly at her.  She caught his head and kissed him, pressing her lips roughly against his in the hope that this would remind him _who_ he was in bed with now.

“Cissa,” he moaned softly when he spilled inside her, and Narcissa let herself go, trembling and tightening and falling back against the pillows in a quivering mess.  Rodolphus covered her in kisses, pulled her close to his chest and stroked her body, running his rough fingers over her soft flesh and Narcissa should have been able to take from that that he really did love her and that all her suspicions that he was still more in love with Bellatrix were foolish, but there was still a small part of her that was wondering if she was the woman who he was thinking of.

“You’re beautiful- Cissa,” he murmured, and the tiny hitch of his voice between _beautiful_ and _Cissa_ only made her suspicion grow.

“More beautiful than Bellatrix?”

His eyes, which had fallen shut while he cradled her against him, snapped open and he gave her a sharp look.

“Bellatrix?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes narrowing.  “You _do_ think that I’m more beautiful than Bellatrix, don’t you?  That I’m better than her – you do love me more than her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Narcissa,” he said, not without a brush of impatience in his voice.  “Really… why would you think otherwise?”

Her shoulder rose into a small shrug and she shook her head, but he was closing off from her already, pulling back so that he did not need to touch her anymore.  Narcissa could have sworn that she could feel her heart break when he moved away.

“Rodolphus, I- I just wanted to be sure…”

“You don’t trust me,” he said rather flatly, glaring at her.  “You don’t believe that I love you, no matter how many times I tell you so.”

“I _do_ believe you!” Narcissa cried.  Oh, _why_ had she had to speak – she should have known that, no matter what he felt in honesty, he would only tell her that he did love her more than Bellatrix.  Why had she ruined what had been a nearly perfect moment by asking such a foolish question?

“You’re so suspicious,” Rodolphus hissed.  “Why?”

“I am not suspicious!” Narcissa cried.  “Please, Rodolphus, forget I said…”

He didn’t respond.  He turned over, arching his back and facing away from her.  “Go.  You can go back to your husband – you can be _sure_ that he doesn’t love anyone else more than you, and that’s what you want, isn’t it?  You want to be absolutely _positive_ that you can trust the person you’re sleeping with and you don’t think you’ll be able to trust me…”

“Rodolphus, of _course_ I trust you!”

“You don’t act it,” he said icily.  “Now leave, or I’ll call for someone.”

Narcissa’s lip trembled but she said nothing more.  She dragged her nightdress on and straightened it, then stumbled out of Rodolphus’s bedroom, trying to hold back any show of emotion.  Anger, sadness, guilt… she could not let herself demonstrate any of them.

_It’s not fair._

It wasn’t fair that Narcissa had to be suspicious of the man she loved – and she did _have_ to be suspicious, for she _knew_ that he loved Bellatrix, no matter how many times he might insist that she meant more to him than anything.

_Oh, don’t be such a child, Narcissa. Life isn’t fair._

She ought to have been happy that he would lie with her at all.  She ought to have been grateful that he loved her enough for that instead of moping that he might love her sister more.  What man in their right mind would _not_ love Bellatrix more, after all?  She was beautiful in a way that Narcissa wasn’t, she was clever and learned and seductive…

She had all the qualities that a man like Rodolphus deserved to have in a wife.

_Of course, she’s in love with the Dark Lord, and if Rodolphus would just realize that she’s never going to stop loving him…_

Narcissa sank down against the wall, unwilling to go back to her bedroom and see Lucius.

Wouldn’t everything just be wonderful if Bellatrix and Rodolphus had never gotten married? 

Narcissa had only been thirteen when the announcement that Bellatrix and Rodolphus were going to be married was made, which was nowhere near old enough for her to fully understand what it had meant.  She could only remember that she had been sitting at the dining room table with Andromeda next to her and her parents sitting across from them with a stony expression.

Bellatrix had blown into dinner late, as she so often was.  Narcissa didn’t know what she did in her time away from the family, but she had suspicions that it involved all sorts of behaviour that her family would have named _improper_.  Judging by the way Bellatrix had looked – windswept and almost ecstatic, wearing a large smile, her breast heaving slightly – Narcissa would have guessed that she had been up on the moors, probably with some of the boys that she occasionally heard her and Andromeda whispering and giggling about.

“Is something wrong?” Bellatrix asked, the smile slipping from her face immediately.  She looked back and forth between Narcissa and Andromeda on their side of the table and Cygnus and Druella on theirs.

“Sit down, Bellatrix,” Cygnus said firmly.

Bellatrix sank down slowly, and Narcissa’s heart began to beat faster.  She hadn’t been told what the matter at hand was and she couldn’t have understood it if she had – all that she knew was that everyone looked far too serious.  Andromeda reached over and held her hand.

“What’s happening, Father?” Bellatrix asked.

“Bellatrix, we have wonderful news!” Druella said.  She was clearly trying her very hardest to look excited, but even Narcissa could detect the note of desperation in hr tone.  It didn’t sound to her like she was excited, it sounded like she was scared.

“What news?” asked Bellatrix, eyeing her warily.

“We’ve just had word from the Lestranges–” Druella began and Bellatrix cut her off with a sharp intake of breath.

“From the Lestranges?” she asked, and now she sounded suspicious and accusatory.  “It wasn’t a message concerning me and Rodolphus, by any chance, was it?”

“It was, as it happens,” Druella said, clearly attempting to keep her composure.  “He has accepted your hand in marriage–”

“ _Accepted?_ ” Bellatrix shrieked.  Narcissa winced, trying to cover her ears, and Andromeda grabbed them, holding them down and giving her a sharp look.

“ _Cissy, stay still!_ ” she hissed in her ear and Narcissa sniffed and nodded.

“He can’t _accept_ my hand in marriage if I never _offered_ him my hand in marriage!” Bellatrix continued, rage all over her expression.  She stood up, leaning over the table so that she was closer to her mother.  “I _never_ wanted to marry him, so he can’t accept!”

“As it happens,” Druella said calmly, “what is important is that your hand in marriage was offered, which it was.  Your father and I–”

“Have _no right to–_ ”

“We have every right to tell a man that you will marry him,” Cygnus interrupted.  “You are our daughter, and you must carry on the family name, as the eldest girl–”

“Don’t give me that speech _again!_ ”

“What speech?” Druella interrupted.  “There will be no giving of speeches and there will be no fighting.  You are going to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix, and don’t you get so upset, because it needn’t happen very soon.  You will have plenty of time to learn to enjoy his company.”

“I already enjoy his company!” Bellatrix protested.

“Then there should be no problem–”

“Simply _enjoying his company_ does not mean that I want to _marry him!_ ”  Bellatrix stamped her foot.  “I _don’t want to!_   I couldn’t!”

“There is no reason that you shouldn’t be able to,” Druella said, and Narcissa was aware of her mother’s voice becoming very cold.  It was a rarity that Druella should be less than sweet to her daughters – less than sweet to anyone, in fact.  Druella was always so poised and composed that it was quite disturbing when she became upset…

“There is _plenty of reason!_ ” Bellatrix cried.  “Mother, he doesn’t fancy me!”

“That’s no reason not to be married,” Druella said, and she too stood up.  She was shorter than Bellatrix, but Bellatrix seemed to shrink a little at her presence.  “And there will be no more discussion on the subject.”

“But _Mother–_ ”

“ _No more discussion on the subject!”_   Druella repeated loudly.  “Now either sit down and behave like a lady about it, or you may go to your bedroom and stay there until you’re willing to accept this marriage!”

Bellatrix’s mouth twisted into a grimace as if she had just taken a large bite of something sour, then she turned away and stamped out of the dining room.  Narcissa could hear her sister pounding up the stairs and the door of her bedroom slam in the distance.

Narcissa had fully expected Bellatrix to warm to the idea of marriage before long – so had everyone else.  No one had ever even _considered_ that she might not, but years had passed and still, the very mention of a marriage to Rodolphus sent her into a moody state from which she would not emerge for hours or even days.  Rodolphus, who came to their home often, seemed just as unwilling, and was apt to sulk if people talked about their impending marriage as well.

He never sulked when he was with Narcissa, though.

Narcissa had found herself so drawn to him, so fascinated by the man who was her sister’s friend but who she so thoroughly did _not_ want to marry.  Narcissa had not been able to understand it, had pondered many possibilities for why they would not wish to marry each other, but she had come up with no reason.

No reason, at least, until she and Rodolphus had–

A small shiver ran up Narcissa’s spine just at the memory.  She could still call to mind every detail of how he had made love to her, how he had taken her virginity, how he had told her when they lay in her bed afterwards that she was the reason that he didn’t wish to marry Bellatrix.

She still didn’t know why she had believed him.

But she had – Narcissa had been utterly _convinced_ that Rodolphus loved her passionately and that she was the sole reason that he didn’t want to be with her sister.

It had been stupid, she realized now.

Because he _did_ want to be with her sister.

He must have wanted it more than anything else in the world, or else they surely would have been divorced barely a few years after their wedding.  Even before Bellatrix had slept with the Dark Lord, they had never been a well-matched pair.  Bellatrix was, people said, not well suited to marriage in the best of circumstances, and Rodolphus wasn’t strong enough to put her in her place.

Narcissa had always had to laugh when she heard people who gossiped saying that Rodolphus was weak.  They knew _nothing_.  He was so much stronger than they ever could have known…

But he had always been weak with Bellatrix, she supposed.  He was not apt to stand up for himself against her, and time after time, Narcissa had seen him backing down from her for no reason that she could see at all.  Perhaps it was simply that she, Narcissa, knew better than anyone else how to manipulate her oldest sister into giving her what she wanted, but she could not understand why Rodolphus, for example, _knowing_ that Bellatrix was having an affair with the Dark Lord, did not _stop_ her. 

Narcissa also didn’t know why Bellatrix was _staying_ with Rodolphus.  She didn’t understand what she could gain from it, especially not anymore – after all, Bellatrix’s reputation as a good, sweet little Pureblood girl was long gone.  Why should she have to maintain a façade of fidelity when everyone knew that she had done so many things that were so much worse than having an affair?  Divorces could be a disgrace, of course, to both parties involved, but surely no more of a disgrace than what Bellatrix and Rodolphus had already done…

Perhaps she simply liked to watch Narcissa squirm.

Perhaps Bellatrix knew all about Rodolphus and Narcissa’s affair – perhaps she always had – and perhaps she simply liked to see Narcissa trying to hide it.  Perhaps it amused her. 

 _She probably_ does _like that, doesn’t she?  She probably loves the idea of me trying to maintain dignity in front of her when she knows all about me…_

No.  No, surely Bellatrix would rather have an excuse to divorce Rodolphus.  If she did that, then she could have more time to be with the Dark Lord…

Narcissa’s lips twitched into a small smile in spite of herself.  Perhaps it was the Dark Lord who was ordering them to stay together so that he did not need to resist Bellatrix’s advances.

But much as it amused Narcissa to think of the Dark Lord being horrified by the idea of Bellatrix adoring him so, if he did not have interest in her, then he would surely have not slept with her in the first place.

And if he hadn’t slept with Bellatrix, then everything would be so much worse.  Bellatrix might have developed feelings for Rodolphus in time, just as everyone had always said that she would, and maybe then, Narcissa wouldn’t be able to come up with any reason for Rodolphus to continue to desire her.  Then she would be stuck with Lucius – _poor Lucius, he deserved better than her_ – and Rodolphus and Bellatrix could be happy together…

Given all the Dark Lord’s contributions to the Wizarding world, for all his efforts to purify blood and stamp out Mudbloods and Muggles, it seemed wrong that the thing Narcissa was most grateful to him for was that he was bedding her sister.

“Narcissa?”

She looked up, blinking and rubbing her eyes a bit.  So lost had she been in her thoughts and musings on Rodolphus and Bellatrix’s marriage that she had quite forgotten that she had been out of bed for what must have been a dreadfully long time now.  Lucius was standing over her with an expression of concern.

“Have you been crying, Narcissa?” he asked.

Narcissa touched her cheek, felt something wet, and nodded.  Easiest that way.  She didn’t need to explain _why_ she had been crying, after all – Lucius did not pry.  He simply held out his hands to her and helped her to her feet.

“Come back to bed,” he told her quietly.

“All right,” Narcissa whispered.  There was no other answer she wanted to give – she didn’t want to stay out of bed any longer, she _certainly_ didn’t want to go back to Rodolphus, and Lucius was such a good man…

Her legs wobbled and he caught her before she fell to the ground.

“Cissy, you’re a mess,” he whispered and she turned her head from him. 

_Yes, of course I’m a mess, but I can’t tell you why.  I can’t tell you anything._

He half-carried her upstairs and Narcissa let tears stream down her cheeks.  She was grateful for the darkness to hide her tears and when Lucius laid her down, he still didn’t know how she was crying.

“I love you, Lucius,” Narcissa said quietly, before he lay down beside her, and he smiled.

“That’s kind of you, Cissy…”

She smiled as he climbed in beside her, smiled through her tears, let him hold her, and she imagined him to be Rodolphus.


	6. Chapter 6

It took a terribly long time before Narcissa was able to work up the nerve to see her sister.

Every time she passed by the door to Bellatrix’s chamber, she felt the conflicting urges both to go in and to run away.  There was guilt, terrible guilt that she was not visiting her after she had been in prison for so long, but that was almost immediately and completely countered by the much stronger guilt that Narcissa felt for sleeping with her husband.  Would she even be able to look at Bellatrix without bursting into tears of shame and confessing everything to her?

Narcissa stood outside of Bellatrix’s door for a very long time before she took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.

If she had thought that Rodolphus looked sickly, skeletal and thin, he was nothing in comparison to Bellatrix.  He looked positively _radiant_ in comparison to her.  Bellatrix, Bellatrix who had once looked such a beauty, was lying still on the pillows, and she looked like a corpse that had been left to rot for a long time before being borne into a funeral home…

Even when Narcissa had seen her sister pass her by and when she had thought that she looked quite dreadful then, Narcissa had not been able to grasp just what a toll Azkaban had taken on Bellatrix. 

“Bella?” she said quietly.

Bellatrix’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking around feverishly.  “My Lord?”

“No, Bella, it’s me… Cissy…” Narcissa whispered, and Bellatrix seemed profoundly disappointed.  She sank back onto the pillows and let out a long, shuddering sigh. 

“Where is the Dark Lord, do you suppose?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Narcissa said.  “But Bella, how are–”

“Oh, I’m wonderful, can’t you see?” Bellatrix demanded in a hiss.  She sat up and glared.  “Don’t I look like I’m in an excellent state?  For I’ve certainly never felt better than I do right now–”

“Bella, don’t–”

“Don’t what?  I am being earnest, Narcissa, don’t you believe me?”  Bellatrix drew in a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.  “I can taste the air.  Did you know that clean air has a taste, Cissy?  It’s so different than how things tasted in Azkaban…”

“I’m so sorry, Bella,” Narcissa whispered.

“Don’t say that.  You aren’t sorry.”

“I am!  If I thought that there was any way for me to make it better for you–”

“You wouldn’t have done it,” Bellatrix said dully.  “There were plenty of things that you might have done, and you did none of them.  You did nothing to facilitate the rise of the Dark Lord, for example–”

“I have given him my house!” Narcissa said indignantly.  “You are in my home right now, Bellatrix – how can you say that I did nothing to help him?”

“You might have done it a long time ago instead of letting him wait for _Wormtail’s_ help.”  The way that Bellatrix said Wormtail’s name was so thick with scorn that it frightened Narcissa.  Bellatrix seemed all but ready to kill …

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Narcissa said timidly.  “I did not know that the Dark Lord would rise again – I had every reason to believe he was dead, and it isn’t my fault in any case,” she added before Bellatrix could snap back at her.  “I am not a Death Eater.  I had no reason–”

“Your husband is a Death Eater, and your sister is as well,” Bellatrix said.  “You might have cared.”

 _Lucius had the good sense to keep himself out of Azkaban_ , Narcissa wanted to say, _so don’t drag him into this_ , but she kept her mouth shut.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said, hoping that she sounded soothing.  “You’re free now–”

“I’m free _now!_ ” Bellatrix snapped.  “But I spend fourteen years in that prison, Narcissa, _fourteen years!_ ”

“I know–”

“You know nothing!” Bellatrix hissed.  “You know _nothing_ about how things were in there – you know _nothing_ about what it was _like_ to be in there – don’t you _dare_ pretend that you do!”

“I never said that I did!”  Narcissa shouldn’t have come in and talked to her sister at all.  She should have stayed away.  Bellatrix clearly hated her, so why was she bothering?  She ought to just leave and stay away, never talk to her again…

“But you think that you do!  You think that you know what it’s like because you’ve been _imprisoned_ too – because being in our manor is nothing like being there – dear God, Narcissa, you act as though you know all about prisons–”

Narcissa was backing away slowly.  She didn’t want to hear this, not any of it, certainly not from her sister.  She had _never_ pretended to know about prisons, and she told herself that fiercely.

“I’m leaving,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake too badly.

“Leave, then!” Bellatrix cried.  “Leave – go – I don’t care!”  She grabbed a cup of water that someone had left on her bedside table and flung it at Narcissa, who ducked and cowered.

“Bellatrix!”

There was a moment of silence, then Bellatrix broke down into tears.  Her whole body heaved with sobbing.  “Cissy- Cissy, I’ve- I’m sorry- I’ve just missed you so much…”  She reached out and tried to grab at Narcissa, who released a breath that she had been holding.

“It’s all right, Bella…”

“It’s not all right – nothing’s all right…”

Narcissa patted her sister’s hair tentatively.  It felt like the matted coat of a wild animal and Narcissa flinched a little but petted her anyway.  Bellatrix’s eyes closed and she rubbed her head lightly against her sister’s hands, once again, calling to mind an animal, though now Narcissa was thinking more of a tame one than a wild one.

“It was Hellish in there, Narcissa,” Bellatrix murmured.  “You don’t know… I can’t explain what it’s like being with those Dementors all day and all night…”

“Is there- is there anything you want to talk about?” Narcissa asked tentatively, mentally begging Bellatrix to say no, and she sighed with relief when Bellatrix shook her head slowly.

“I won’t speak of it anymore,” Bellatrix said softly.  “It’s over – and now the Dark Lord has freed me, he is ready to reward me for my faith.”

“Mm,” was all that Narcissa could say.

“Have you seen him?” Bellatrix asked.  She sat up a little more and caught onto the front of Narcissa’s dress, looking up at her with wide, slightly wild eyes.  “Has he been here?  Has he asked after me?”

“No,” Narcissa said, repressing her urge to shove Bellatrix back.  It was terrifying to have her clinging to her so…

“Oh…”  Bellatrix sank back onto the pillows, burying her face in her hands. “He does not care, then…”

“Of course he cares, don’t act like he doesn’t, Bella,” Narcissa said, touching her sister’s arm.

“You will send him to see me when he does come here, will you not, Cissy?” Bellatrix asked in a small and croaking voice, and Narcissa nodded, as if she had any authority over what the Dark Lord did.  She could not even speak to him without shaking terribly and stumbling over her words for fear, but it was better that she tell Bellatrix that she would send him up than tell her that she couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Bellatrix said, then she laid back, closing her eyes.  Narcissa watched her for a moment to be sure that she was breathing before she stood up and backed away.  Guilt churned in her belly.

_Why am I hurting her?_

Narcissa didn’t _want_ to hurt her – indeed, she had always been able to convince herself that she wasn’t hurting Bellatrix at all because Bellatrix didn’t want Rodolphus and so the whole matter was insignificant to her.  After all, Bellatrix loved the Dark Lord and took no interest in her husband, so Narcissa should not have felt any sort of remorse for stealing her husband away from her…

_And it’s hardly as though I’m really stealing him at all, as he is not ever going to leave her._

But when Narcissa looked at her sister when she was in this state, she could only feel guilt.

Guilt because everything was so dreadfully unfair.

_It will do you well to stop dwelling on how unfair everything is._

Narcissa turned and left her sister’s bedroom with all the dignity she could muster, for she didn’t want to behave for even a moment longer as if Bellatrix could make her feel _bad_.  It wasn’t right to believe so because Bellatrix hadn’t done a thing to her.  Bellatrix probably didn’t care that she was sleeping with Rodolphus…

_Narcissa cared._

She went down to the parlour with shaky steps and sank down onto the couch beside Lucius, who was reading the Daily Prophet with a grim expression.

“What news is there?” she asked him, leaning close and resting her chin upon his shoulder. 

“None,” he said.  “I suppose I should be pleased by that, since they’re still convinced that the Potter boy is lying and the Dark Lord hasn’t risen yet…”

“Why should you be pleased by that?”  Narcissa dropped her voice to a whisper and glanced around, praying that they were not being listened to, before she whispered into her husband’s ear, “Lucius… as long as the Dark Lord is active, we are going to have to live this way.  I want it to end, Lucius, I want it to _end_.”

“When it ends, it will end badly,” Lucius said, rather sharply.  “And the Dark Lord would not take kindly to you even having such thoughts, Narcissa, you ought to know – it wouldn’t matter to him that you are not a Death Eater.  Speaking that way would be a sign of lack of faith to his mind.  He would have us both killed…”

Narcissa bit down on her lip.  “But–”

“When it ends,” Lucius whispered, “and I will only _assume_ that it will end with both of us alive, which it may not… but if it _does_ , do you understand what will happen to us?  You and I will both be put in Azkaban in a heartbeat – we can tell them that we were under the Imperius curse, but they won’t believe us for a moment.”

Narcissa felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes.  “Surely we could–”

“There would be nothing that we could do, Narcissa.”  Lucius sounded too firm, harsher and more stubborn than Narcissa was either used to or fond of hearing him.  “Do you understand me?  It would be the end for both of us!”

“Really?” she asked, her lip quivering.  “They wouldn’t, surely – you are so close to the Minister…”

“And do you expect he would still be the Minister?” Lucius demanded in a hiss.  “Do you expect that the Dark Lord is going to allow him to live once he had taken power from him?  Do you think that the _next_ Minister after the war is going to be so terribly fond of former Death Eaters?”

“You don’t think the Dark Lord is going to win, then?” Narcissa asked softly.

Lucius fell silent.  He looked away from her, staring out one of the windows and over the grounds, then finally turned back to her with a very sombre expression.

“No,” he said at last.  “And you mustn’t tell anyone that I’m telling this to you, Narcissa, because I would be killed for it…”

“I can keep secrets,” Narcissa said quietly.  _If only you knew the secrets I could keep._

“No,” Lucius repeated.  “I don’t think that he is going to win.  He didn’t win before, but that was by virtue of his own error, and I don’t doubt that he will make another such error eventually.”

“You don’t think he is going to be more careful?” Narcissa asked tentatively.

“Oh no, I’m sure that he will be _much_ more careful.”  Lucius sounded vaguely bitter.  “But it is impossible to _not_ make mistakes, and there will eventually come a time when one mistake will ruin him.  Power never lasts forever, Narcissa, and what he wants – immortality and power for every moment that he is alive… that will never work.”

“You don’t think that people can make things last forever?” Narcissa asked quietly.

_I can keep the secret forever – no one is ever going to know that I am lying with my sister’s husband, and if I can keep that secret forever, then surely that is not so very different from keeping power forever…_

“No, I suppose not,” Lucius said.  “But power especially does not last forever.  Power of the sort that the Dark Lord wants rarely even lasts _long._ ”

“I hope it doesn’t,” Narcissa whispered, then she let out a dry sob.  “I just want things to be _right_ again, as they were before the first war–”

“I wish that things could be that way too…” Lucius said softly, then he shook his head.  “But then, wishing rarely does us good, does it?”

 _Wishing has done me far more good than doing anything ever has_ , Narcissa thought, but she did not say so.


	7. Chapter 7

She did not sleep well that night.  Part of her was _begging_ her to get out of bed and go to Rodolphus’s bedroom, spend another night in his arms for _surely_ she deserved that after all that she was being put through, but the larger, more sensible part of her thought that that would be a dreadful idea.  Part of her wanted to go to Bellatrix’s bedroom and kill her sister where she slept, but that part was the quiet, dark part of Narcissa’s mind that she had long since learned never to even acknowledge. 

So she tossed and turned – she _must_ have been disturbing Lucius terribly – but did not leave the bed, and when she finally fell into a fitful sleep, she was plagued with dreams of Rodolphus.

She woke at dawn with a sickness of guilt in her stomach.

There was no use to trying to go on like this.

Narcissa wasn’t _strong_ – she knew that, she always had – but she had always thought that she had some strength in the field of emotions.  She knew that she could hide her emotions and she knew that she could read other people with some skill, but now she was unable to even _think_ about what she was feeling (worse yet, what Rodolphus was feeling) without being completely overcome.

She would go mad within days if this was how she was to go on.

Lucius was still asleep in the bed – probably having been kept awake for the entire night by Narcissa’s restlessness – and that was good.  It was better for him to be asleep than for Narcissa to try to speak to him, because every thought that was in her mind concerned Rodolphus and she did not doubt that if she tried to say anything to Lucius, she would end up confessing her feelings to him and that would end most dreadfully.

Narcissa rose from bed, not bothering to dress or even glance in a mirror and stumbled out of the bedroom.  Her feet were not able to hold her properly and she had to catch on to the wall at several points to keep herself upright, but she managed to stumble downstairs nonetheless.

Rodolphus’s door was shut and latched and Narcissa wondered whether she had been the one to close it so firmly or whether Rodolphus himself had closed it.  Or perhaps someone else had been into his bedroom…

_Perhaps Bellatrix had–_

No, Bellatrix had _not_.  Bellatrix was in no state to be visiting her husband and Narcissa doubted that she would have interest in it at all.  After all, Bellatrix only cared for the Dark Lord…

Narcissa shoved the door open.

Rodolphus was lying with his back to her.  He did not glance up and Narcissa wondered briefly whether he was sleeping and hovered awkwardly in the doorway, but then he spoke.

“What do you want, Cissa?”

She wanted to explain what she felt.  She wanted to tell him why she wanted him and why it hurt that he didn’t feel the same – no matter how many times and in how many different ways he tried to explain that he _did_ , because she knew that it was not true – but only one phrase could come from her lips.

“Why do you love her, Rodolphus?” Narcissa demanded.  She knew that she sounded as though she was whining – which, of course, she was – but she didn’t care.  “Do you think that even for a minute, all those fourteen years in Azkaban, she was thinking of you?  You should know that she wasn’t!”

“I don’t care.”  Rodolphus did not so much as turn in bed.  He lay with his back to Narcissa, glaring out the window at the frost-ridden grounds of Malfoy Manor, as though he thought that his precious wife was out there.  Narcissa could have slapped him.

“But I thought of you,” she said, clasping his hand in hers and pulling it to her breast.  “I thought of you every day, Rodolphus, and every night!  More than I thought of her, even!  Because I _love_ you!”

At that, Rodolphus did turn over, and he fixed Narcissa with a cold, glare.  His face was hollow and his eyes were haunted from the years in Azkaban.  No longer did he even resemble the handsome, strong man that Narcissa had fallen in love with when she was so young – this new Rodolphus looked like little more than a walking corpse, and yet she still wanted him and wanted to love him.

“If you loved me, Narcissa,” he said, his voice filled with venom, “then you wouldn’t have let me rot in there!”

“What was I to do, Rodolphus?” she asked.  Her voice cracked and a tear almost escaped her eye.  “What could I have done?”

“You could have visited,” he told her coldly.  “Would that have been too much to ask?  That you visit even once, if you loved me so much…”

“Don’t do this, Rodolphus,” Narcissa begged quietly.  “How could I have?  What would I have told Lucius?”

“Do you love Lucius more than you love me?” he demanded.

“No!  Of course not!”

Rodolphus glared at her a moment more, then he turned again.  If Narcissa thought that it would do her any good, she would have fallen into bed with him and clung to him and begged him to forgive her, but she knew better.

She rose slowly, picking up the bowl of soup that she had been sent to give him and turned away, stepping out of the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

Would that she could have sent away Rodolphus – and all the other Death Eaters who the Dark Lord had brought to Malfoy Manor for what he called “safekeeping” until they could find a better home.  Narcissa would have done it in an instant, for it drove her mad, having to see them, having to _care_ for them.

As difficult as the fourteen years in which Rodolphus had been in Azkaban had been for Narcissa, it was a thousand times more difficult to have to see him every day than it had been to think that she would never see him again.

She wanted to shake him, wanted to slap him, wanted to _hurt_ him.  He drove her mad.  He infuriated her and made her want to scream and cry and die all at once.

“Why do you do this to me, Rodolphus?” she hissed.

“I am doing nothing to you,” he said, voice still absent of anything like remorse – or any feeling at all, in fact.

“Doing nothing to me?  You- you’re breaking my heart!”  There were tears in her eyes and she struggled to keep them back.  “Don’t you _see_ that you’re breaking my heart?”

“You can’t break someone else’s heart,” Rodolphus told her simply.  “You can only break your own heart, and if you’d just stop caring–”

“Stop _caring_?”  Narcissa let out a harsh, hysterical laugh.  “As though it’s that easy!  You don’t say that about yourself and Bellatrix, do you – you don’t act like you can just stop caring about her – you act as though it’s her fault that _your_ heart’s breaking and if it is, then it’s your fault that mine is–”

“The difference, Cissa,” Rodolphus said, and there was still no emotion in his voice.  That made it all the more infuriating and Narcissa ground her teeth together, “is that Bellatrix and I are married and you and I are not.”

“Why should that make all the difference?”

“It simply _does!_ ”  Now there was a touch of emotion in Rodolphus’s voice – irritation.  Anger.  “Why don’t you discuss heartbreak with Lucius instead?  _Your_ husband – the person that _you’re_ married to!”

“Don’t act as if you care about Lucius now!” Narcissa said scornfully.  “You wouldn’t give a damn if I killed Lucius and left his body at the side of the road – you’re just trying to get rid of me now, aren’t you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” hissed Rodolphus, and he must not have known how vicious he sounded.  Narcissa shrank back from him a little.  “My God, Narcissa, I didn’t think it was possible for you to become _more_ stupid than you already were, but God _damnit_ …”

“Rod,” Narcissa said in a tiny voice.  It hurt that he could call her stupid when she was the one feeding him, keeping him alive.  “Rod, what–”

“I don’t want you anymore, you stupid, pathetic excuse for a woman!”  He dragged himself up out of bed, clutching the bedposts for support and still wobbling on his feet.  “I don’t want anything to do with you – I want you to go away with your lovely, perfect husband who’s _so_ good to you, and forget me–”

“I couldn’t ever forget you, Rodolphus!” Narcissa cried.  She all but leapt to her feet, catching him as he wobbled and began to fall.  She held him up, painfully startled by how terribly light he was.  “I couldn’t – I love you…”

“I don’t _want_ you to love me!”

“Why not?”  Narcissa’s voice was rising to a high and hysterical pitch and tears were stinging the backs of her eyes but she struggled to keep herself from falling apart entirely.  “Please, Rod, please explain to me why you don’t want me to love you…”

“Because!”  He pushed her back, falling down onto the bed and clutching his own chest.  Narcissa’s stomach jolted for a moment, for she thought that she might have done something to hurt his heart, but then he dropped his hand and looked back at her with wild and feverish eyes.  “ _Because_ as long as you love me, you make me feel as though I ought to love you too!”

_You should!_

“And that makes you feel guilty for not loving me?” Narcissa asked.  She could hear the venom in her own voice and wondered whether she was wrong for being harsh with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care very much.  Let him hurt.  Let him be hurt by her words. 

“I don’t feel _guilty_.” 

“It sounds as though you feel guilty,” she said in an accusatory voice.  “It sounds as though you feel guilty because you _know_ that you have someone who loves you and you think that you ought to love me back–”

“You have Lucius to love you.”

“That is different!” she told him, clenching her hands into fists.  “I love Lucius as well – he is a good man – but he doesn’t mean to me what you do–”

“And what do I mean to you?” Rodolphus challenged.  “Do I mean something more to you than _the man you love because you know that it will hurt your sister that you do_?  Do I mean something more than _the man you love because he hurts you–_ ”

“I don’t love you _because_ you hurt me!” Narcissa cried indignantly.  Tears sprung to her eyes.  “How can you _think_ that, Rodolphus?  Do you think I like feeling this way?”

“Yes,” Rodolphus hissed.  “Yes, I do.  I think you very much enjoy wallowing in your self-pity because you love a man who will never love you back the way he loves your sister – because you don’t think she deserves it, do you?  You _like_ feeling put-upon and hurt, because you’re hoping that this will mean that someday, you’re going to be paid back for all the pain you’ve endured–”

“And what do you think you know about _the pain I’ve endured_ , Rodolphus?” Narcissa challenged.  Her voice, previously high and hysterical, lowered into a venomous snarl and she spat out every word as if it tasted bad.  “Do you think you know _half_ of what I’ve gone through–”

“What you’ve put yourself through, you mean.”

“I don’t put myself through pain on _purpose_!” Narcissa cried.  It stung her to believe that that was what Rodolphus thought of her.  “Are you mad?”

“A little,” hissed Rodolphus.  “Azkaban can do that to a person – not that _you’d_ know, you pathetic little girl – you didn’t go, did you?  You weren’t there – you couldn’t have stood it if you did go!  You’re so _weak–_ ”

“I- am- not- weak!” Narcissa told him.  She must have sounded like a child, insisting on her strength that way, but she didn’t care.  It was better to sound like a child than to sound like a woman who really _was_ too weak to have stood behind the Death Eaters.

“Are you not?  What have you done in your life to prove that you’re not weak, Narcissa – name me one thing!”

“I- I carry on this affair with you–”

“And what does that prove?” Rodolphus demanded, a laugh in his voice.  “That proves that you’re dishonest, not that you’re brave!”

“ _Dishonest_!  _You’re_ speaking to me of dishonesty?”

“Yes,” Rodolphus said coolly.  “I’m not lying to my wife when I tell her I love her – unlike _you_ are when you tell Lucius that you love _him_.”

“I do love Lucius!”

“Yes, you tell yourself that.  You can tell yourself that because it makes you feel better about what you’re doing.  You can tell yourself that you love Lucius, that you don’t _mean_ to hurt him and that if you could protect him, you would.  That’s how you justify not telling him that you think about me when you’re in bed with him… or do you not, Narcissa?  Do you not think of me?”

Narcissa was trapped.  There was no answer that she could give to that that would not hurt.  She stammered and Rodolphus snorted quietly.

“I thought that you did,” he said, sounding satisfied.  “You tell yourself that it’s better that you don’t tell Lucius because you really do love him and you want to protect him.  Honesty is a sign of love, you know, Narcissa!”

She stammered, tried to speak and then stopped when no words would come.  She was blinking back tears that were all too ready to spill and all she could do was stare Rodolphus straight in his eyes and mentally beg him not to say another word.

“So you’re going to keep doing this, aren’t you?” Rodolphus hissed.  “You’re going to keep pining after me – _knowing_ that I’m never going to want you the same way that you want me – and you’re going to keep going back to Lucius and crying into his arms because you know that you can…”

“I don’t cry into Lucius’s arms just because I know that I can!” Narcissa cried.  She wanted to stamp her feet and scream but she could not afford to draw any more attention to herself.  Everything would only get worse if Lucius decided to come into the room and saw his wife crying at Rodolphus’s bedside…

“Don’t you?  Do you deny that you cry into his arms?”

“Of course I do!  Because _I love him_ – how many times will I need to explain this?”

“If you really loved him–”

“Don’t tell me that if I really loved him I wouldn’t be with you!  I can love more than one person!”

“No, you can’t.”  Rodolphus shook his head sharply.  “You can’t love more than one person, not _really_.  You can _care_ about more people, but that’s not the same thing as love.  Do you understand that, Cissy?  Do you _understand_ that you can’t have it both ways, _do you_?”

“I’m not trying to have it both ways–”

“Yes, you are!”  Rodolphus reached out and grabbed Narcissa by a hank of her long, fair hair, dragging her towards him until her nose was all but touching his and all she could see were his eyes, inches from hers, staring at her as if he could see right into the very depths of her soul.

“Rodolphus,” she whispered, then her voice was silenced when he kissed her.

Narcissa’s body responded automatically, her lips opening slightly for him and her arms twining about his neck, and only after a long moment did she pull back.

“Can’t you… not have it both ways either?” she asked softly, her voice thick and husky.  “Surely you can’t say that you love Bellatrix and then kiss me…”

“Yes, I can,” Rodolphus told her.

“Why?”

“Because no one’s going to stop me,” he said, then kissed her again.

* * *

Narcissa emerged from Rodolphus’s room flushed and hoping desperately that she did not look as dishevelled as she felt.  Her heart was pounding and her breath came in short and stuttering gasp.  It felt as if it had been an eternity since she had felt so _much_ at once – ecstasy that Rodolphus might still love her, pleasure from his kisses, frustration both at his weakness and her own and guilt, _oh_ so much terrible guilt.

No matter how many times she had told Rodolphus – and herself – that she didn’t care about Lucius, the fact remained that, for the last fourteen years, she had been _happy_ with him.  He had been good to her, far better, she knew, than Rodolphus had been to Bellatrix before they were sent away to Azkaban.  He had been faithful, had cared for her.

_Had cared for Draco as though he was his own son…_

She pressed her hands over her eyes, tears swimming in them.

What had she _done?_

She had wanted Rodolphus so badly – so badly that it had hurt – and now she was worrying about being unfaithful – what was the _matter_ with her?

Why couldn’t she just be happy?

“Is something the matter, Cissy?”

Lucius’s voice jolted her, and she whirled around, trying to wipe her tears before Lucius could see them.  “What?  No- no, of course nothing’s the matter.”

“You’ve been crying.”

“I’m just tired,” she excused automatically.  “I’m not- I’m all right.”

He reached out and took her hand gently in his.  “You would tell me if something were wrong, wouldn’t you, Cissy?”

_Would I?_

Narcissa wished desperately that she could tell Lucius yes, of course she would tell him if something were wrong.  She wished that she could mean it, and she wished that she loved him the way that he deserved.  Fresh tears filled her eyes.

“Cissy…”  He reached out, catching her in his arms and she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing desperately.

“I’m sorry!” she cried.  “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry Lucius…”

“About what?”

Narcissa tried to speak.  She tried to say something – _anything_ – give Lucius any sort of explanation at all for what was wrong with her.  But in the end, she could do nothing but cry.  Lucius soothed her with his soft words and gentle, warm caresses, and the guilt that Narcissa felt was unbearable.

And the very worst part, she thought to herself later, when she lay in bed with Lucius’s arms around her and his head beside hers on the pillow, was that when Lucius had held her so trustingly and whispered in her ear that everything would be all right, and _comforted_ her, she had thought of nothing but Rodolphus’s arms around her and how very much more she would have liked to cry into his shoulder than Lucius’s.


	8. Chapter 8

The Dark Lord was staying away from the Manor.

Narcissa could not have been more happy that he was away – after all, as long as he was not there, she would not have to pretend as though she approved of having her house used as a haven for all his men – but Bellatrix did not care for the situation and she made her opinions quite staunchly known to Narcissa whenever she had to go to talk to her.

“I think that something must have happened to the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix said one afternoon when Narcissa went into her bedroom with a bowl of soup and loaf of bread, intending to give it to her quickly and leave just as quickly, perhaps to go to Rodolphus and talk to him for a while…

Or make love to him…

“Nothing’s happened to the Dark Lord,” Narcissa said, trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes.  That had been what Bellatrix had said all but every day when Narcissa brought her food – that something must have happened to the Dark Lord, or else he would have been back.

 _Perhaps he has not come back to the Manor because he does not want to hear your incessant, snivelling little whines about how you are his most faithful servant and no one else will ever compare_ …

“But something _must_ have!” Bellatrix insisted.  “He has not been to see me!  He should be here with me–”

“I’m sure that he is fine,” Narcissa said, already shuffling backwards and reaching for the door handle.  She wanted to leave desperately but could not as long as her sister was talking, or life would be misery for her, as she knew all too well.

“He can’t be!  If he were fine, he would be here!”

“I’m sure that he has very important things to attend to,” she tried.  “Surely the Dark Lord has much work that has to be done – after all, he has to concern himself with what the Ministry is doing, make sure that he is not suspected of being active again…”

“If that was what he was doing, he would have me with him!”

“Perhaps,” Narcissa said with a small sigh.  She despised how her sister could carry on about how the Dark Lord trusted her so – it was infuriating.  Narcissa wanted to give her a slap around the face every time she mentioned how much the Dark Lord adored her.  It was enough to make Narcissa hope that the Dark Lord should someday find some other woman who was a better Death Eater than Bellatrix was, just to put her in her place.

_Don’t think like that.  It would break her heart._

But Narcissa didn’t care about breaking her sister’s heart.  Of course she didn’t – or she would not be sleeping with her husband…

“Do you think that he has lost interest in me, Narcissa?” Bellatrix breathed nervously.  “Do you think that he might have?  Is that why he isn’t here?”

“I could not and cannot say why he isn’t here,” Narcissa told her.  “Please, Bellatrix, stop asking me – I swear that I know as little as you…”

“You must know more!  You are able to speak to other people, and you own the house–”

“You all might as well own it,” Narcissa said snappishly.  “I have no control over who comes and goes anymore – I might as well be running a boarding house…”

“Do you really think that that is what you’re doing?”  Bellatrix sounded contemptuous – hardly a surprise.  Contempt was far from an unfamiliar thing for Bellatrix to speak with.  She always seemed to be willing to look down upon _someone_ …

“I do think that this place has… certain hallmarks of a boarding house,” Narcissa said, trying to be diplomatic and failing intensely.  She saw her sister’s nostrils flare slightly and her chest swell out, then she sat up and managed to grab hold of Narcissa’s wrist.

“You ought to be honoured,” Bellatrix hissed.  “You should be overcome with honour that the Dark Lord should take interest enough in you and your husband as to choose your home to house his most faithful Death Eaters…”

“I thought that you are his only faithful Death Eater,” Narcissa said peevishly, shaking her arm out of Bellatrix’s grip.  “Isn’t that what you’re so fond of bragging about?  You came for him when all others had abandoned hope – not that you were _able_ to do him any good, but…”

“I did plenty of good!” Bellatrix cried.

“And what good did you do?  If I recall, you got yourself locked up in Azkaban right away – you didn’t have much chance to do anything.  Or were you the one who found Wormtail and told him how to resurrect the Dark Lord?  Because if I recall correctly, _he’s_ the one who brought him back…”

“You shut your mouth, Narcissa!”

Narcissa pressed her lips together disapprovingly and made no more sound.  Bellatrix sat back, her breast heaving as if she had just run a mile instead of sat up and snarled at her sister.

“The Dark Lord,” she began, then broke off, touching her forehead.  “You can never fully understand what the Dark Lord is doing, what the Dark Lord’s work means…”

“I was under the impression that it meant that blood purity was important – and nothing more than that,” Narcissa told her.  “Am I wrong?  Is he doing something else that I’m not aware of?”

“You know _nothing_!”

“Don’t I?  And what do _you_ know – you, who, by your own admission, know less than me about the comings and goings of people in this house…”

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix repeated, but her voice was low and dangerous this time instead of being high and angry.  “I swear to you, Narcissa, if you are not careful, I will not hesitate to…”

“To?”  Narcissa snorted slightly.  “To do what?  Hurt me?  Do you think that you _can_ hurt me – really, do you?”

“I- I–”

“What are you going to do?” Narcissa taunted, standing back, out of Bellatrix’s reach as she swiped at her with her nails.  “Do you think that you can do anything?  You don’t even have your wand!  You can’t hurt me!”

“Can’t I?” Bellatrix demanded.  “I can do so much more than you think – I could kill you, I could have the Dark Lord kill you!”

“Not if he isn’t here, obviously… and can you command him now?” Narcissa asked innocently.  “I thought that he was _your_ master, not the other way around…”

Bellatrix’ face flushed darkly.  “I am his servant–”

“So surely that means that you can do nothing to command him…”

“He will listen to me if I ask him to!  He trusts me!”

“He has changed, you know,” Narcissa told her.  “Do you think that he is _just_ how you remember him?  Even if he hadn’t changed – and he _has_ , Bellatrix, he has changed more than you could possibly ever know–”

“How do _you_ know?”  Bellatrix demanded.  “You said that you knew nothing about him!”

“I know more than you, as _you_ said,” Narcissa said.  She had the upper hand now, she thought – she had the power over Bellatrix.  She was the one who had the advantage and she could twist her sister as she pleased.  It was such a wonderful sense of power, and one that Narcissa was rather unused to.  Power was not something that she was often granted…

“Even if he hadn’t changed,” Narcissa continued, “even if he was entirely the same as he was when you last saw him, he would still be unrecognizable to you.  You’ve had such a _very_ long time to distort what you thought of him – I think you think of him as a God now…”

“He is all but a God!”

“No, he is not,” Narcissa said sharply.  She was clenching her fists, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands.  “He is a man.  He was only ever a man and he will never be anything more than a man, no matter what army he commands.”

“But I–”

“You.  You know _nothing._ ”

“I know so much more than you of what he is like – you can only see as an outsider can – you aren’t a Death Eater, Narcissa!”

“No, I am not,” Narcissa said venomously.  “And I am glad of that.  All Death Eaters are like you – they behave as such willing pawns to the Dark Lord, and they only do it for their own glory…”

“That is untrue!  I do it for his glory and no one else’s!  This is why I am his favourite, his most faithful–”

“Don’t- make- me- laugh!” Narcissa said sharply, letting out a bark of laughter with every word.  “You are not his favourite, no matter how you wish you were!”

“Has he any other Death Eater who matters more to him than me?” Bellatrix demanded.  Her eyes were wild again, feverish, and they looked as though they were burning in her eye sockets.  Narcissa might have been afraid if she were not so very sure that her sister could do nothing to hurt her, not _really_ hurt her.  “Has he been speaking – have the other Death Eaters been speaking like that?  Is there someone else?”

“Is there someone else – perhaps _the man who brought him back?_ ” Narcissa suggested, her voice thick with sarcasm.  “I would think that the Dark Lord has more interest in Wormtail than in you, as it was Wormtail who allowed him to rise to power again while you were rotting in your cell…”

“Stop!” Bellatrix cried.  “If I had not been caught–”

“How could you have expected not to be caught?  What were you thinking?” Narcissa laughed.  “And if I recall, you were quite pleased about going into Azkaban – you did not attempt to stay out because your Lord needed you – you were willing to go, because you believed that that made you _special_ to him…”

“Stop speaking that way!”

“But you aren’t,” Narcissa hissed.  “You did _nothing_ for him save for bed him when you were young – but he wouldn’t want that from you now, would he?  You aren’t exactly the beauty you once were…”

“He did not simply want me because he thought me beautiful!  I pleased him – I was and am his–”

“If you tell me even _once_ more that you were and are his most faithful servant, I swear to God, Bellatrix, that I will smash this tray across your face!”  Narcissa lifted the tray on which she had brought in the food menacingly.  “Don’t think that I won’t!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yes, I would,” Narcissa hissed.  “Now come up with some other thing to say about yourself besides that you are his most faithful!”

“He didn’t take Wormtail to his bed,” Bellatrix said venomously.  “I will believe that he has another Death Eater of whom he is fonder than he is of me when he takes another Death Eater to his bed.”

“What would you do if he did?”

“I would kill them,” Bellatrix hissed, her eyes burning.  “I would kill them on the spot…”

“Then how can you be sure that he does not simply want to protect his more faithful Death Eaters from you?”

Bellatrix seemed lost for words at that and Narcissa smirked, satisfied with herself.  “I thought that you would not be able to think of something more to say to that…”

“I- I…” Bellatrix stammered and Narcissa shook her head.

“Don’t bother,” she said, then turned away and swept out, keeping her back straight and her head up.  Let Bellatrix lie there and consider that the Dark Lord might have a new favourite – perhaps that would silence her.

Rodolphus was waiting outside the room.  He was leaning against the wall and there was a small smirk playing upon his lips.

“You and your sister are most entertaining,” he said softly.  “I like listening to you when you’re angry…”

Narcissa sighed impatiently, setting down the tray.  “Go back to bed, Rodolphus.”

“I don’t see why I should.”

“Because you’re weak,” she told him, holding out her hands to help him, but he shook his head. 

“I am not weak,” he said, sounding quite unhappy at the implication.  “I am not.”

“I didn’t mean- not _weak_ , exactly,” Narcissa said, a slight flush rising in her cheeks.  “Really, Rodolphus, I didn’t mean it like _that…_ ”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“I just meant – you’re still physically weak from Azkaban…”

“I’m sure that that was all you meant…”

“You’re infuriating, Rodolphus,” Narcissa told him, but she smiled a little, tears coming to the corners of her eyes.  Rodolphus was smiling at her, a soft, teasing smile that had become unfamiliar to her but that he had once worn whenever he saw her. 

“And I know that you love it.”

Narcissa shook her head, the smile on her lips widening a little.  “Come back to bed.”

“Come with me,” he breathed, putting his arms around her and murmuring in her ears.

“Rodolphus…”

“Do it,” he ordered.  “But kiss me first.”

Narcissa tried to pull the corners of her mouth down into a disapproving frown but she couldn’t manage it and laughed, standing up on the tips of her toes and pressing a soft kiss to Rodolphus’s mouth.

“All right,” she whispered, and she let him lead her back to his bedroom.

It was only after she had gone, when she was lying in bed with him, pressing last kisses to his cheeks and mouth before she had to get up and go back to Lucius – go back to all her _work…_ – that she found herself wondering if it had been safe to speak to Rodolphus while standing right outside her sister’s bedroom.

Perhaps that had been unwise.

But she convinced herself that, if Bellatrix had heard anything, she surely would have come rushing out, and there had been no disturbance.

“Rodolphus?” she murmured in his ear, still unwilling to leave but feeling that she could not simply lie in silence with him anymore.

“Hmm?”  Rodolphus turned his head slightly and caught her lips with his, holding a kiss for a moment before pulling back and smiling slightly at her.  “What is it, Cissa?”

“I… I know I’ve said this before, and you don’t care–” Narcissa began, but Rodolphus silenced her with a finger pressed against her lips.

“Are you going to tell me that you love me?” he asked.

She nodded a little, tears of emotion coming to her eyes.  “Yes,” she whispered against his finger.  Her heart was beating quickly.  “Yes, I love you.”

“I love you too…”

That surprised Narcissa and she could not help regarding Rodolphus with suspicion.  Was he teasing her?  He did not sound as though he was, but he had said only the other day that he loved Bellatrix, that he believe that one could only love one person at a time and that he was only sleeping with her because he _could_ , but he was looking at her with great sincerity. 

“But- but Bellatrix…”

Rodolphus waved his hand through the air carelessly.  “I was being foolish before…”

“You were?”

“I talked to her,” Rodolphus said.  He was looking at Narcissa very earnestly and she felt as this was almost _too_ good for her to believe, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that he was lying while looking at her so seriously.  “All she could speak of was the Dark Lord…”

“I know what that’s like,” Narcissa told him quietly and he laughed. 

“I imagine you do… but… it was just too much – I don’t want to go through my whole life listening to her talk about how the Dark Lord _loves_ her when we all know that he doesn’t…”

“That never bothered you before…”

“It bothers me now.  Maybe because I was away from her for so long…”

Narcissa barely dared to hope.

“But I love you,” he said seriously.  “I do… I love you _so_ much…”

“Really?” she whispered, her voice breaking from emotion.

“Yes,” he whispered, then drew her close into his arms and kissed her again. 

Narcissa melted into his arms immediately.  She had been hoping for this – for him to realize that he could have someone so much better than Bellatrix – for so terribly long that it was almost frightening to believe that Rodolphus really _did_ love her, but she didn’t want to question it.  Even if it was strange, even if there was a part of her that was suspicious of him, she _couldn’t_ believe that he _didn’t_ …

So she kissed him and let him hold her and didn’t leave his bed for hours.


	9. Chapter 9

It was so much harder to kiss Lucius after that.

It shouldn’t have been harder – what difference _should_ it have made that the man she had been having an affair with loved her now and hadn’t before?  She had been just as unfaithful before, and while she had felt those terrible little pangs of guilt when she was with Lucius before, it had not been paralyzing or agonizing as it was after Rodolphus told Narcissa that he loved her.

“Are you all right?” Lucius asked her that night when she hovered at her vanity table, brushing her hair until her scalp ached instead of joining him in bed.  Narcissa didn’t even turn to look at him, but instead looked only at his reflection in her mirror.

“Of course I’m all right, Lucius,” she said, and she took care to keep her voice steady.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just… don’t seem well.”  He had been lying in bed, reading and waiting for her, but he stood up and approached her slowly.  “Narcissa, I worry…”

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” Narcissa said with a small laugh.  “Really – I’m fine…”

“Are you?  I know how difficult this has all been.”  He stood behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them softly, massaging knots from her neck.  “I know that you would rather have the Death Eaters out of our home…”

“No,” Narcissa said, a little too swiftly, and when Lucius looked down at her quizzically, she shook her head.  “I- I am glad to be of service to the Dark Lord.”

“You sound like your sister now,” Lucius said, laughing quietly.  Narcissa’s cheeks coloured slightly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.  “I just… I would rather have his Death Eaters staying here than have him call upon us for something more dangerous – I mean, we’re safe doing this, as long as the Ministry doesn’t find out…”  She twisted around, looking at him, heart suddenly rising into her throat.  “Aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, Narcissa,” Lucius soothed.  His hands were still working gently on her neck and she relaxed a bit.

“Good.”

“But surely it is still rather difficult for you, isn’t it?  You… you can tell me – I won’t tell the Dark Lord,” he added with a small smile.

“No,” Narcissa repeated.  “It isn’t such a burden… I’ve gotten used to it… I do wish there weren’t quite so many,” she added with a tiny laugh. 

_I wish there was only one – and that you were gone._

_Oh God, that’s terrible of me._

Unbidden, tears sprung to her eyes.  She shouldn’t have even thought such things about Lucius, even if she _did_ love Rodolphus and even if he _did_ love her too – that didn’t mean that Lucius was _less_ than Rodolphus.  Lucius was better, in fact, and it was terrible of Narcissa to act like he didn’t deserve to live in his own home…

“Narcissa, what’s- why are you crying?” Lucius asked, dropping to his knees beside her vanity table and touching her cheeks.  “Cissy…”

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.  “I’m sorry…”

“About what?”  He looked panicked and Narcissa’s heart raced.  _What if he suspected?_

“I’ve- I’ve just been horrible about this…” she said.  _Which was true, so long as she didn’t say what_ this _really was_.  She had been horrible over plenty of things, taken out a great deal on Lucius…

“You’re not horrible, Cissy, don’t ever say that!”

“But I have been _acting_ horribly…”

“You haven’t,” he said softly, standing again and pulling her to her feet and into his embrace.  “You’ve been wonderful about everything…”

“No, I haven’t,” she whispered, and she would have given anything to be able to confess to Lucius.  It would have been such a burden lifted from her and it was agonizing to think that she _couldn’t_ …

“Cissy,” Lucius murmured, pulling back a little.  “Cissy, you know that there’s nothing that you could say to me to stop me from loving you, you know?”

Narcissa swallowed.

_If only you knew.  If only you knew what I had done – then you wouldn’t be so sure that there was nothing that I could do to stop you…_

“I mean it, Cissy,” he told her.  “Please… never ever think that I could hate you for anything…”

Narcissa’s whole body heaved with suppressed sobs. 

_You would hate me if I told you._

But hearing him saying things like that made Narcissa want _so_ desperately to believe that she could confess, that she could tell him about her affair and how she was in love with Rodolphus, even though she really did care for him, and that he would still love her even if she did.

“Cissy…”

“Nothing?” she asked, biting back sobs.  “There’s _nothing_ I could say?”

“Nothing,” Lucius repeated.  He sounded so certain, so completely _positive_ that there was no crime so terrible that it could stop him from loving her, and hearing him talk like that only made Narcissa hope more.

She let out a shuddering sigh and then sank onto the vanity stool, running her hands through her hair.  “S- sit down,” she whispered, pointing at the bed, and Lucius sat.  He was looking at her worriedly and it tore Narcissa apart that she was about to break his heart.

 _Honesty is a sign of love, you know, Narcissa_.

How _dreadfully_ ironic it was of her to be thinking of something that Rodolphus had said in her attempts to work up the strength to tell Lucius…

“I’m in love,” she whispered at last.  She couldn’t think of any other way to say it – save the far worse _I’m having an affair_ – and what was the use of sugar coating it any more than she already had?  It would be better for Lucius to know the truth, surely…

He let out a small sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.  “I thought…”

“I love you, Lucius,” she was quick to say.  “I do, I love you–”

“Who is it?”

Narcissa couldn’t manage to gather to words to give the answer.  She didn’t _want_ to give the answer – she wanted Lucius to _not care._ She wanted Lucius to say that it didn’t matter.

 _She wanted Lucius to tell her that she could run away with her lover, that he would be happy for her, but she didn’t really_ expect _that, now did she?_

“Rodolphus Lestrange,” she managed to whisper at last.

Lucius’s lips twitched.

“I thought so,” he said softly.  “Rodolphus Lestrange… your brother in law…”

“Don’t!” Narcissa cried, her face screwing up in an effort to stop herself from bursting into tears.  She was trying so hard to remain calm, so hard to keep herself steady, but she just _couldn’t_.  “Believe me, Lucius, I know that he’s my brother in law…”

“Is this what’s been on your mind since the Death Eaters came here?” Lucius asked.  “Is this why you’ve been- been crying every minute?”

She nodded mutely and he swore under his breath, making her pull back from him.  If it were Rodolphus to whom she was married and she made the same confession, it would have been met with a blow.

 _But if I were married to Rodolphus, I never_ would _make the same confession because I would never be unfaithful to him._

“Do you hate me, Lucius?” Narcissa whispered.

Lucius had put his head in his hands, massaging his eyes with his fingers, but at her question, he looked up at her with what she could only assume was the most genuine of surprise.  She frowned a bit, trying to read into the expression, trying to see whether it was disbelief at the idea that he might _not_ hate her over it, or something else…

“Of course I don’t hate you, Cissy,” he said.  “I said that I wouldn’t, and I meant it…”

“But- but I…”

He shook his head, and though his eyes were sad, Narcissa _thought_ that she saw the corners of his lips curve up into a slight smile. 

“I meant what I said,” he repeated.  “This isn’t _half_ as bad as some of the things that I was imagining you were going to say,” he added, laughing very slightly.  “Cissy… this… this isn’t enough to make me hate you – nothing could _ever_ be enough to make me hate you.”

“But…”

“I knew you used to be- that you and he…”  Lucius broke off and shook his head.  “I know that you used to be with him… it’s hardly a shock that you still are…”

“Oh…”  Narcissa bowed her head, letting her hair fall to shield her face.  “I- I thought that I had changed.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, moving close and taking her hand.  “I forgive you.”

“Do you really?”

“Entirely,” he said, and there was not so much as the slightest shred of uncertainty in his voice.  “I forgive you and I love you.”

Narcissa’s eyes swam with tears and her lip trembled.  “Oh- oh Lucius, how… I… I don’t deserve…”

“Shh…”  He brushed her hair from her forehead and cupped her cheek slightly.  “You’re my wife…”

“I know, but surely–”

“I would never hate you for anything,” he said again.  “Believe me when I say that, Cissy, for I mean it every time I say it.”

“You deserve better than me,” Narcissa whispered, her voice shaking.

“I don’t think so.”  Lucius drew back slowly, brushing his fingers tenderly along her jaw line.  “If… if Rodolphus makes you happy, then I want you to- I want you to be with him…”

Narcissa stared. 

She had been told, oh so many times, that if you loved someone, you would want them to be happy, but she hadn’t ever seen something like this – hadn’t ever believed that there was a person in the world with the strength of will to let someone that they loved go, but here was Lucius, willing to allow her infidelity because he wanted her to be happy… the idea was so strange, almost disconcerting to her.

“Are- you- I don’t…” she stammered.

“You don’t?”

“I- you- Lucius, you–”  The words were all a mess inside her mind and they would not come out.  She was ready to cry.  “Lucius, I love you _so_ much…”

“I love you too, Cissy.”

“You make me so much happier than Rodolphus does!” Narcissa told him, and in that moment, she could not recall what her reasons had been for being unfaithful at _all_.  She should never have strayed from Lucius – Lucius was good to her, Lucius was _kind_ to her, and she felt happier at that moment even than she had when Rodolphus said that he loved her.

Lucius didn’t say anything, and Narcissa let out a long, shuddering sob.

“I won’t see Rodolphus anymore,” she said.  “I won’t- I won’t ever sleep with him again…”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!”  Narcissa nodded emphatically.  “I- I don’t know why I did it…”

Lucius’s eyes were filling with tears now, and he let out the smallest of sobs as Narcissa flung her arms around him and cried into his shoulder.

She would think of Rodolphus no more, she swore to herself, and for that moment, she meant it entirely.


	10. Chapter 10

She didn’t go to his room anymore.  She left the trays of food outside his door and knocked, then rushed away before he could come out.  It made it easier to talk to Bellatrix, and perhaps it was simply because her patience was not strained so thin, but Narcissa found herself willing to sit by her sister’s bed and listen to her talk about the Dark Lord after that.

Or perhaps she simply liked sitting in her sister’s room because it meant that she wouldn’t have to see Rodolphus.

Narcissa was sitting in the library one afternoon, quietly reading and trying to avoid all thoughts of Death Eaters or the Dark Lord or any other such matters that plagued her day and night, when she heard the door crash open.  She looked up abruptly and saw Rodolphus in the doorway, his eyes wild and his clothes a mess, looking at her with an almost frighteningly intent stare.

“Rodolphus…”  Narcissa rose, her hands trembling a little as she laid her book aside and took a tentative step towards him.  “What are you doing out of bed?  You haven’t been out of Azkaban long; you’re still weak–”

“Why do you never come to see me anymore, Narcissa?” he demanded.  Narcissa winced at his tone.

“I can’t- can’t carry on an affair with you anymore, Rodolphus,” Narcissa said quietly, in what she hoped was a soothing and reasonable voice, though she knew enough both about Rodolphus and about people who had been in Azkaban to know full well that even the most reasonable of tones would not calm them down.  “It was one thing when we were younger, but Lucius has been good to me…”

“Been _good_ to you?”  Rodolphus sounded nearly hysterical.  “The fact that he’s been _good_ to you didn’t stop you before!  It didn’t stop you from asking me why I love Bellatrix more than you, and it didn’t stop you from getting into bed with me!”

“Please be quiet, Rod, someone might hear,” Narcissa begged, her cheeks flushing, but Rodolphus lashed out at her, slapping her across her face.

It was not a hard slap.  Narcissa had suffered far worse – from her father, from Rodolphus when they were young, from Lucius on very rare occasions – but all those had been at times when she had expected it, and, moreover, at times that she felt that she deserved it, whether she truly did or not, but this came as nothing short of a shock to her.

“Rodolphus…” she whispered, lifting her hand to touch her stinging cheek and trying to keep tears from her eyes.  “Don’t do this.  Don’t do this to me.”

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ try to make me feel as though this is my fault!” Rodolphus snapped.  “I know that it isn’t!  You wanted me–”

“ _Stop it!_ ”

“You wanted me and you were upset that I didn’t want you and now I _do_ , and you’re acting as though this is my fault – you didn’t say that we couldn’t carry on an affair when you were in bed with me last night!”

“Get _out!_ ” Narcissa cried.  Tears broke free from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.  “This is why, Rodolphus!  This is why I don’t want you!  I can’t stand you when you act like this; don’t you realize that?”

“Funny,” said Bellatrix, stepping through the doorway with her eyes narrowed to slits and her wand drawn.  Both Rodolphus and Narcissa froze at the sight of her, and Narcissa’s face flushed crimson.  “I would have thought that the reason you wouldn’t want him would be because he was married to your sister.”

“Bellatrix–” Narcissa began but Bellatrix even pause to listen to what she had to say.  She strode right ever to her and gripped her by the front of her dress, yanking her up and against the wall with surprising strength.

 _Anger lends people strength_.

“Let go of me!” Narcissa cried but Bellatrix didn’t give her a chance to speak any more.

“How _dare_ you!” she hissed.  “You’re my sister – and you _dare_ to sit in my bedroom and talk to me before you go fuck my husband–”

“Bellatrix!” Rodolphus cried.

“I _thought_ you were doing it, you little _slut_ ,” Bellatrix continued, her voice rough and harsh.  “I heard you two talking but I wasn’t _sure_ , so I came down- I heard Rodolphus going past and I followed and he comes to _you_!”  She shook her sister roughly and her head cracked against the wall.  Stars popped before Narcissa’s eyes.

“B- Bella…” she stammered, her mind reeling.  “We- we aren’t–”

“What do you care?” Rodolphus demanded, grabbing his wife’s arm and trying to drag her away from Narcissa.  “I thought that you only cared about the Dark Lord – that’s what you told me every time I tried to tell you I loved you–”

“That isn’t the point!” Bellatrix hissed.  “It’s not about who I care about – but you’re my _husband!_  You shouldn’t be fucking my _sister!_ ”

“Because I’m your property now, am I?” Rodolphus challenged.

Bellatrix let out a harsh bark of laughter.  “Yes.  Yes, that’s exactly it – and don’t pretend that this isn’t how _you’d_ behave if you found out I was sleeping with someone and he _wasn’t_ the Dark Lord – the only reason you haven’t done something like this is because you’re afraid of the Dark Lord!”

“Let go of me!” Narcissa begged.  “Please, Bella, let go–”

“You’re such a whore,” hissed Bellatrix.  Her eyes were wild.  “ _Why_ , Narcissa, _why_ would you–”

“ _Get off me!_ ” Narcissa shouted.  Rage bubbled in the pit of her stomach and she gave her sister a rough push.  She was stronger than Bellatrix – she hadn’t been in Azkaban for the last fourteen years, after all – so why was she allowing her to hurt her?  Her chest heaved and she stared down at her sister, who had gone stumbling backwards and fallen into a chair, and who was now staring up at Narcissa with an expression that could only be described as _perplexed_.

“If I told you,” Narcissa said, struggling to keep her voice steady and imperious instead of coming apart and shouting and crying, “that I didn’t want Rodolphus anymore – and if I told you that I had no intention of _ever_ sleeping with him, not _ever_ again – _then_ would you be satisfied?”

Bellatrix’s lip curled and she swallowed hard, still staring up at Narcissa with abject disgust in her expression.

“No,” she hissed.  “No, I wouldn’t.  Nothing you promise to do in the future is _ever_ going to erase this.”

Narcissa hadn’t expected that answer and she stammered a bit, but Bellatrix shook her head, standing up.

“Don’t _ever_ talk to me again,” she hissed, and if Narcissa hadn’t known her sister so well, she wouldn’t have been able to detect how hard she was trying not to cry.  As it was, she could hear the tears thickening Bellatrix’s voice but didn’t know what she could say to her to calm her. 

Rodolphus looked as though he wanted to say something – to say something, or to strangle Narcissa – but Bellatrix grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the library before he had a chance.

Narcissa’s whole body was shaking as she sank slowly down onto the couch again.  Her palms were wet with perspiration – her whole body was, in fact – and all she could think was _I’ve ruined everything._

She wouldn’t ever be able to look at Lucius without guilt, so she had lost her husband.

Rodolphus would hold a grudge against her forever for even _saying_ that she wouldn’t lie with him again.  He didn’t _really_ love her, Narcissa knew that.  So she had lost her lover.

And Bellatrix.  Thinking of Bellatrix hurt the most.  Bellatrix might forgive with enough time, but she would never forget.  She would never look at Narcissa and think that she was _anyone_ but the whore who had stolen her husband.

Her husband and her lover – Narcissa might have been able to let those losses go eventually.  She could have learned to live with guilt or with suspicion.  She could even have learned to live, knowing that both men hated her.

But she had also lost her sister.

And that was more than she knew how to take.

)O(

_Fin_


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